La Coque’s curiosity got the better of his temper, and, reseating himself, he obeyed, muttering below his breath. After a while he looked up, a very sneering expression on his pert combative face:
“Her Highness shows a better judgment in music than some other people—that is all I have got to remark,” he said.
Don Philip prepared to amuse himself at his friend’s expense. He was always ready to exact such payment for the familiarity he invited.
“Meaning,” he said, with a just perceptible wink at the other intimate, “that she shows signs of succumbing after all to what, for our part, we found instantly irresistible.”
“I neither meant that, nor detect here any such indication,” was the glowering answer.
“You puzzle me, Charles,” said the duke. “What did you mean then, may I ask?”
“I meant just what I said.”
“Was ever such a cross enigma!” protested Philip to la Roque. “Here is our daughter, though in an unaccommodating mood, almost confessing herself at last a captive to the charm to which we all yielded at the first assault, and our friend will have us insensible by comparison. But I say we shall refuse to surrender to the Infanta that first place in appreciating M. Tiretta, in taking which we were all unanimous.”
“Say with one exception,” cried la Coque.
“One? Yourself, do you mean?”