This was for me the first hint of his attitude towards this adventure.
In his exaggerated delicacy of sentiment he felt that nobody's
self-esteem need be affected by what a madman may choose to do to
one. It became apparent, however, that the Count was to be denied that
consolation. He enlarged upon the abominably savage way in which that
young man rolled his glistening eyes and gnashed his white teeth. The
band was going now through a slow movement of solemn braying by all the
trombones, with deliberately repeated bangs of the big drum.
"But what did you do?" I asked, greatly excited.
"Nothing," answered the Count. "I let my hands hang down very still. I
told him quietly I did not intend making a noise. He snarled like a dog,
then said in an ordinary voice:
"'Vostro portofolio.'"
"So I naturally," continued the Count--and from this point acted the
whole thing in pantomime. Holding me with his eyes, he went through
all the motions of reaching into his inside breast pocket, taking out
a pocket-book, and handing it over.
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