"Did you? Well"—with sudden crossness—"you may go on thinking so, if you like. Can she sing?"
"Rather well."
"As—better than I can?"
"You must judge for yourself when you hear her."
"You might tell me. But no! I don't want you to, now. It's spoiled. Good-night."
"Good-night. Dream of your conquest."
"Probably she's only trying to—to bring you to the point, by being nice to me. I wonder if you care?"
I would not give the little wretch any satisfaction. I merely laughed, and an odd blue light flashed in his eyes. He was making up his mind to something, for the life of me I could not tell what.
The Contessa and her satellites should have gone on to Chamounix next day, but Gaetà frankly announced her intention of waiting, so that we might make the journey together. They were driving over the Tête Noire, and we would go afoot, to be sure; still, said she, we could keep more or less together, exchanging impressions from time to time, and lunching at the same place. She made me promise, as a reward to her for this delay, that the Boy and I would not take the way of the Col de Balme, by which no carriage could pass. If we did this, our party and hers must part company early in the day, and she would be left to the tender mercies of the Baron and Baronessa for many a triste hour.
"But why should you be imposed upon by them, if they don't amuse you?" I ventured to ask; for Gaetà was so frank about her affairs that one was sometimes led inadvertently to take liberties.