"Rouse yourself! Look not so like an assassin. You will bring suspicion!"
"Hush!" answered the viscount, with a quick glance towards Claudia, which warned La Faustina that the American lady might be supposed to understand Italian.
Claudia did understand it, and was filled with a vague sense of horror and amazement.
They sat down to the table. Lord Vincent followed Mrs. Dugald's advice and tried to "rouse" himself. And after he had two or three cups of coffee he succeeded.
Faustina was as bright as a paroquet and as gay as a lark. She prattled on in a perpetual, purling stream of music. Among other things she said:
"And do we go to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean in 'Macbeth' tonight, mon ami?"
"Yes; and Lady Vincent goes with us," answered Lord Vincent emphatically.
"I beg your pardon, my lord. I have already declined to do so," said Claudia, speaking with forced coolness, though her heart was burning, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes flashing with indignation.
"You will think better of it, my lady. You will go. Cuthbert, pass the eggs."
"I shall not, my lord," replied Claudia.