"Madame," she returned, still more icily, "you force upon me the
opinion that there are circumstances under which it would be well to
take an example by the grocer's wives whom you despise so much."
This remark, in which the Bourse-countess did not fail to hear the
ring of the real aristocrat's disdain, touched her in her tenderest
point. She tried to smile, but turned livid under her paint, and
determined to return the stab on the spot.
"Don't be angry, dearest countess, I was only joking, and you know
as well as anybody that we Andalusians do not weigh our words too
carefully. By the bye, your French poet--you know--the one before
you went to the seaside--is simply beside himself. You have thrown
him over, it seems. He comes to me every day, imploring me to say a
good word for him to you. He talks of challenging his fortunate
successor, and goodness only knows what nonsense beside."
Pilar turned very white. She sprang to her feet.
"Shall I give a name to what you are doing?" she cried, her voice
shaking.
"Don't trouble," returned her visitor, perfectly delighted, and
rising as she spoke. "I see, dearest countess, that you have one of
your nervous days, so I had better come again another time."
So saying she swept out of the room, throwing an offensively
friendly nod at Wilhelm as she passed.
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