“Oh, yes, let’s have it out, then! I’ve felt there was something in the air. What has Frau Hurter been telling you now? She went for me this morning like any old fish-fag, and said I had ruined Fritz, and broken his heart, and he was no good for anything!” And she tossed back a mane of hair, and glared a challenge.
“It is not Fritz, Cara. It is about the strangers—the Englishmen, whom you meet clandestinely and go about with, motoring and amusing yourself, when all the time I’ve been trusting you, and thinking you were taking lessons in Lucerne.”
“Oh!” dropping her arms, “so it has leaked out at last! Well, it had to some day. I’ve had a ripping time, and I’m not sorry.” And this handsome young woman, with her bare arms and neck, and flowing hair, faced her accuser unabashed, and unrepentant, assuring herself, she had no reason to be afraid; she was always able to cow, and browbeat the Mum.
“Oh, Cara, Cara! How could you?” murmured her parent, with uplifted hands.
“Well, I believe most people know I’ve friends—men friends. Fritz was crazy, when he saw me speaking to Captain Seymour; but think of the awful, awful life I lead here, and other English girls have such good times! I’ve done no harm whatever—I’ve only amused myself. And why not?”
“Getting out of your bedroom window at night, and sitting in the garden with strange men from the Paradis!”
“Now, who can have told you that?” she asked sharply. “Jost? though for ten francs he swore he’d hold his tongue; treacherous old devil!”
“Never mind who told—I know everything.”
“Do you, Mum? I doubt it. I’ve had lots of affairs since I was fifteen,” and she eyed her mother with amusement. “Yes, it’s in my blood. You asked me to tell you things—and I will.”
Now that the ice was broken, Cara felt tempted to shock her mother; she would enjoy the sensation.