The petty cause contrived to produce its effect.
Still retaining the star-ornamented pin in her right hand, Madame de Hansfeld, as it were, beat on her left hand the measure of the crescendo of the anger that agitated her, and which included De Brévannes, Bertha, and the prince.
"Paula did not utter a syllabe; she took the fatal pin and began playing with the ornament."
At this moment, she again encountered the eyes of Iris, and instead of turning from the look of the Bohemian, she gazed at her for a moment with an air so significant, that Iris thought she was about to give her the pin.
De Brévannes continued, addressing Madame de Hansfeld,—
"But what do you think of M. de Morville, madame? Are we not right to shew our disgust at the sheepish admiration which makes an idol of such a nullity?"
"Assuredly, sir," said Paula, "it is quite right not to take men as always deserving of reputation because they are in repute."
"And never was repute less merited. I am not alone in my opinion, I assure you. There are many persons who think as I do; and what most prejudices me against M. de Morville is, that he assumes perfection in every thing. To hear him one would believe that he rides, handles his weapons, and shoots better than any man living."
"Is M. de Morville a great shot?" inquired Arnold.