Yet Marius did not fasten his quarrel upon that.
He had come to La Rochette resolved that any pretext would serve his turn.

But the sight of his brother so inflamed his jealousy that he had now determined that the quarrel should be picked on the actual ground in which it had its roots.
"Oh, as you will," said the Marquis coolly.

"Perhaps your friend will be seated, and you, too, my dear Marius." And he played the host to them with a brisk charm.

Setting chairs, he forced them to sit, and pressed wine upon them.
Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache's had been left.

The Parisian's hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong to his brother.