She was again every inch the Baroness Windeg, as she thus recalled the plebeian millionaire to his place; but whether the cause of dispute had angered him too much, or whether the wine, which had flowed so freely at dinner, had produced some little effect on him, he did not this time show her the same boundless respect, but answered with some heat,
"Really? Well, then, I shall thank you to remember,"----but he got no further in his speech, for Arthur, who had remained in the background so far, taking no part in the conversation, stood up all at once at his wife's side, and said quietly,
"I must beg you, sir, to put an end to this unpleasant discussion.--I have left Eugénie unlimited freedom of action, and I do not wish that any one else should attempt to restrain it."
Berkow looked at his son as though he had not heard aright. He was accustomed to see Arthur display the most passive indifference on all occasions, great and small, and was as much surprised by his son's interference as by this open championship.
"You seem to have quite gone over to the opposition to-day," he returned in a jesting tone. "I shall do well to beat a retreat before such combined forces, particularly as I have some business matters to attend to still. I hope I may find you rather less disposed to quarrel to-morrow, Eugénie; and you, Arthur, somewhat more tractable than you have shown yourself to-day. I wish you both a good evening."
CHAPTER VIII.
When Berkow left the room in suppressed wrath, he had probably no idea of the embarrassment his sudden departure would cause to the two who remained behind, an embarrassment they had not felt since the evening of their arrival, for never since then had they been alone together. They had met only in the presence of strangers, or at table when the servants were in constant attendance, and this unexpected tête-à-tête seemed equally unwelcome to both. Arthur, no doubt, felt that he could not exactly follow on his father's heels; he must at least address a few words to his wife first, but several seconds passed before he made up his mind what to say, and when at last he was about to speak, Eugénie forestalled him.
"You need not have come to my assistance," said she coldly. "I should have been able to vindicate my independence and hold my own against your father."
"I do not in the least doubt your independent spirit," answered Arthur in the same cool tone, "but I have misgivings as to my father's delicacy. He was about to bring up a subject, the remembrance of which I wished to spare both you and myself. That was the sole object of my interference."
She was silent and leaned back in her seat, while her husband, standing by the table, took up the fan that was lying there and examined its arabesques with an appearance of much interest. A second and more uncomfortable pause ensued, until at last he began again: