The other took the button off her foil.
“Indeed!” cried she, with well-feigned surprise. “Oh! I understand. To be your mistress could be but a temporary disgrace; to be your wife would be a lasting discredit,” she continued. “And now, sir, having played your rival's game, and showed me your whole hand” (a light broke in upon our diplomat), “do something to recover the reputation of a man of the world. A gentleman is somewhere about in whom you have interested me by your lame satire; pray tell him I am in the green-room, with no better companion than this bad poet.”
Sir Charles clinched his teeth.
“I accept the delicate commission,” replied he, “that you may see how easily the man of the world drops what the rustic is eager to pick up.”
“That is better,” said the actress, with a provoking appearance of good-humor. “You have a woman's tongue, if not her wit; but, my good soul,” added she, with cool hauteur, “remember you have something to do of more importance than anything you can say.”
“I accept your courteous dismissal, madam,” said Pomander, grinding his teeth. “I will send a carpenter for your swain. And I leave you.”
He bowed to the ground.
“Thanks for the double favor, good Sir Charles.”
She courtesied to the floor.
Feminine vengeance! He had come between her and her love. All very clever, Mrs. Actress; but was it wise?