“Not until I have said something to you, Mr. Beratinsky,” said the other with mock politeness.  “I have this to say, that your ways of late have been a little too uncivil; you have been just rather too insolent, my good friend.  Now I tell you frankly it does not do for one in your position to be uncivil and to make enemies.”

“For one in my position!” Beratinsky repeated, in a tone of raillery.

“You think it is a joke, then, what happened to-night?”

“Oh, that is what you mean; but if that is my position, what other is yours, friend Reitzei?”

“You pretend not to know.  I will tell you:  that was got up between you and Lind; I had nothing to do with it.”

“Ho! ho!”

“You may laugh; but take care you do not laugh the other way,” said the younger man, who had worked himself into a fury, and was all the madder on account of the cynical indifference of his antagonist.  “I tell you I had nothing to do with it; it was your scheme and Lind’s; I did as I was bid.  I tell you I could make this very plain if—­”

He hesitated.

“Well—­if what?” Beratinsky said, calmly.

“You know very well.  I say you are not in a position to insult people and make enemies.  You are a very clever man in your own estimation, my friend Beratinsky; but I would give you the advice to be a little more civil.”

Beratinsky regarded him for a second in silence.

“I scarcely know whether it is worth while to point out certain things to you, friend Reitzei, or whether to leave you to go home and sleep off your anger.”

“My anger, as you call it, is not a thing of the moment.  Oh, I assure you it has nothing to do with the champagne I have just drunk, and which was not paid for by you, thank God!  No; my anger—­my wish to have you alter your manner a little—­has been growing for some time; but it is of late, my dear Beratinsky, that you have become more unbearable than ever.”

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Reitzei; I at least am not going to stand in the streets talking nonsense at two in the morning.  Good-night!”

He stepped from the pavement on to the street, to cross.

“Stop!” said Reitzei, seizing his arm with both hands.

Beratinsky shook him off violently, and turned.  There might have been a blow; but Reitzei, who was a coward, shrunk back.

Beratinsky advanced.

“Look here, Reitzei,” he said, in a low voice, “I think you are sober enough to understand this.  You were throwing out vague threats about what you might do or might not do; that means that you think you could go and tell something about the proceedings of to-night:  you are a fool!”

“Very well—­very well.”