"You have black eyelashes yourself, and as I am of the family, why may
I not have them too?" I said, pouting.
"Of course you can have them or anything else you wish, to oblige you. But I should rather like to know how long your hair is when you let it down. You look as if you had a great quantity there, but probably it is not all your own." And he smiled provokingly.
"If I was not afraid of the servants coming in I would undo it to show you," I replied, with great indignation and a sadden feeling that I, too, could tease. "I never heard anything so insulting!"
"My servants are well trained. It is not six o'clock yet. They won't come in until half-past six, unless I ring. You have plenty of time."
A spirit of coquetterie came over me for the first time in my life. I took out the two great tortoise-shell pins that held it up, and let my hair tumble down around me. It falls in heavy waves nearly to my knees.
"That is perfectly beautiful!" said Antony, almost reverently. "I apologize. It is your own."
I got up and shook it out and stood before him. It hung all round me like a cloak. Oh, I was in a wicked mood, and I do not defend my conduct.
"Comtesse," he said, and his eyes swam, "fiendish little temptress, put up that hair. And come, I will tell you about A Digit of the Moon."
I pretended to feel greatly snubbed, and in a minute had twisted it to my head again.
"It is a queer title," I said.