"You are in a very unbelieving humour to-day."
"I have reason to be."
"Am I the cause?"
"Yes." The Contessa was not quite sure why she said it, but for the moment she felt that it was true, as perhaps it was in an indirect way.
"Do you know that although you have asked me a great many questions which I have answered as well as I could, you have not told me what it is I am accused of saying?"
"You are accused of saying," answered the Contessa, looking straight into his eyes, "that your friend Lord Herbert Arden is in the habit of taking too much wine. Is that so nice a thing to have said?"
Ghisleri's face darkened, and the blood throbbed in his temples.
"As I have told you precisely what I really said," he replied, "I shall say nothing more. Only this—if you have any sense of justice left, which I begin to doubt, you will ask San Giacinto whether he thinks it probable that I would say such a thing. That is all. I suppose you will believe him."
"I do not think I believe any one. Besides, as you say, he can only testify to your character, and say that the thing is improbable. Of course he would do that. Men always defend each other against women."
"He can tell you something more if he chooses," answered Ghisleri.