She simply stared at him. He continued promptly.
“You have received your warning, I see.”
“From whom?”
“From the Count von Hern. Why believe what he says? He may be a friend of yours—he may be a dear friend—but in your heart you know that he is both unscrupulous and selfish. Why accept his word and distrust me? I, at least, am honest.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Honest?” she repeated. “Whose word have I for that save your own? And what concern is it of mine if you possess every one of the bourgeois qualities in the world? You are presuming, sir.”
“My friend Sogrange will tell you that I am to be trusted,” Peter persisted.
“I see no reason why I should trouble myself about your personal characteristics,” she replied, coldly. “They do not interest me.”
“On the contrary, Duchesse,” Peter continued, fencing wildly, “you have never in your life been more in need of any one’s services than you are of mine.”
The conflict was uneven. The Duchesse was a nervous, highly strung woman. The calm assurance of Peter’s manner oppressed her with a sense of his mastery. She sank back upon the couch from which she had arisen.