“I confess it; but an evasion is not an answer, Francis.”
“Well then, yes, it is true; I wished you to leave for your own sake. But never believe, Leopold, whatever stories you hear about me, that I am deceitful, that I would play a part. I was myself when I made the scene—violent, angry, and burning with indignation. I have my whims and fancies, that I know; but I never feign—that would ill become me; for, I may say, I have too much good in me to act falsely. Yet there are so many contradictory feelings in me that I sometimes stand surprised at myself. And let me tell you, Leo, I came here to seek consolation from you, but your tone and your words have bitterly disappointed me, so much so that for a moment I have asked myself whether you were one of those snobs in patent-leather boots, who, while expressing horror at an ungloved hand, are yet not afraid of soiling its whiteness by boxing your wife’s ears. Because I did not observe the form of sending a servant to ask you to come to my room, you receive me as you did, and repulse me with mocking words!”
It was now my turn to feel piqued, and I should have answered sharply had I not succeeded in controlling myself.
“Pardon me, Francis, I should consider myself the greatest of cowards to strike a woman; but it was no question of a woman just now. We were speaking of Major Frank—Major Frank who is angry when reminded of the privileges of the fair sex, because he will not be classed amongst ‘the ladies,’ and who, in my opinion, ought not to be surprised when, after his own fashion, one tells him the truth roundly, and without mincing matters.”
Francis listened this time without interrupting me. She was staring at the panes of the window, as if to put herself in countenance again; her paleness disappeared, and, turning round, she said, without anger, but with firmness—
“I confess, Leopold, it is not easy to contradict you; and now I think we are quits. Are we again good friends?”
“There’s nothing I desire more ardently; but, once for all, with whom? with Major Frank or——”
“Well, then, Francis Mordaunt asks for your friendship.”
She offered me both her hands, and her eyes filled with tears she could no longer keep back. How gladly I would have kissed them away, and pressed her to my heart and told her all! But I could not compromise my commencing victory.
“Should I have spoken to you in this way, Francis, if I had not been your sincere friend?”