Lopez bowed gravely. His mind had travelled back a long way. He had never forgotten the marvellous beauty of this woman; it seemed strangely heightened by the dress and the diamonds.
"You were not Mrs. Benstein then," he said.
"No. My ambitions did not lie in that direction. I had no liking for a fortune ready made. I always made up my mind to carve out one for myself. But since then I have learnt how hard it is for a woman to do so."
The great, dark eyes grew thoughtful for a moment, then the woman laughed.
"We are all puppets of fate," she went on, "even the strongest of us. I am a philosopher, or at least I imagine myself to be one, so it comes to the same thing. I am tired of the contemplation of my splendour, so I am going to make use of it. I shall go into society."
"I am quite sure you will go anywhere you please," Lopez said.
"Yes," the woman spoke as if it were a matter of course. "To-morrow I begin. The wife of Aaron Benstein, the money-lender. How they will sneer and mock at me!"
"And how they will envy you from the bottom of their shallow hearts!"
Mrs. Benstein laughed as she walked up the shallow steps.
"That will give salt to the dish," she said. "I came here to-night because I was tired of my own company. Let us sup together and talk of old times."