He felt the blood rushing to his face: her criticism was rather franker than he liked, but she had addressed him with greater familiarity than she had yet allowed herself.
“You do not like her,” she said. “Well, I will tell you: your Admiral, who has a weasel’s eye for the French, may be caught napping by a woman; and she is very much in love with him—as any woman might be,” she added, with a little tragedy sigh; “for men are so scarce, though you will be one some day, Signor W-Will. And so you see she plays to him, with her beauty and her engagingness, and her wisdom and her foolishness; for the last card you play to the person, whose love you wish very much, is your foolishness, which is the greatest sacrifice you can offer.” Then she continued: “But it was so comical her bringing us all—the Admiral and you and General Mack and the whole Court—to see her arranging her backgrounds, which you will all see made real by lamplight this evening, as if it was a matter of such great moment to us all to see a carpenter nail canvas to a post, or a gardener bringing in a poor palm tree sawn off at the roots to fit into a hole in the stage. Shall I tell you what I think?”
“I wish I knew all your thoughts.”
“Well, you shall know one of them.”
“What is that?”
“That it is sometimes quite a fortunate thing to lose your arm. For if the Admiral had not lost his arm he might have had to nail up the canvas, or screw the palm tree into the hole.”
Will gave a kind of groan, which she pretended not to note.
“It was much more entertaining for him to sit by—I mean to sit in a box and watch a servant dancing attendance on her ideas, which changed like a chameleon’s.”
Will hoped so, but kept silence.
“I never enjoyed myself so much, Signor W-Will. Your Admiral is so kind to ladies. Perhaps many of his smiles were conversation, for he speaks so little Italian, and I not much more English: you must teach me English, Signor W-Will, that I may talk to him without giving him trouble. Yes, our friendship is a great success.”