He is a ruffianly interloper, and you, Madame, the law would call by another name." She got quickly to her feet and came a step nearer to him.

Leaning a hand on the table, she bent towards him slightly.

Something seemed to possess her that transfigured her face, and gave it a sense of power and confidence.

Her eyes fixed themselves steadily on him.
"Monsieur," she said, "you may call me what you will, and I will bear it, for you have been sorely injured.

You are angry because I seemed to think an Englishman was not fitted to be Seigneur of Pontiac.