Although she chattered like a magpie on the road, he was silent and sullen, nursing his injured pride and wounded self-sufficiency. Susan, who was interested in him for the novel reason she disliked him so heartily, parted from him with the air of a duchess, and entered the hotel, holding her head so high that he swore under his breath as he drove away. And, as a result of the quarrel with the lad, he would probably have to risk being “pinked” for this jade! Susan, on the other hand, was as happy as a lark when she entered the dining-room of the St. Charles, that great eating-place and meeting-place of all classes of people.
As she seated herself at a table, a smile lurked around the corners of her mouth and flickered faintly upon the waiter who forthwith became a Mercury for expedition and a prodigal for variety. Her quarrel on the road with her companion had in nowise interfered with that appetite which the fresh air and the 255 lateness of the hour had provoked, nor were her thoughts of a character to deter from the zest of eating.
From the present to the past was but an instant’s flight of the mind––thus may the once august years swiftly and unceremoniously be marshaled by!––and she dwelt in not unpleasing retrospection on an endless field of investigation and discovery and the various experiences which had befallen her in arriving at the present period of mature knowledge; a proficiency which converted her chosen researches into an exact science.
Thus meditating and dining––counting on her fingers twice over the fair actresses who had become titled ladies, and enviously disbelieving she would join that triumphant company––Susan was still seated at the table some time later when the soldier glanced in. Imperatively she motioned him to her side and he obeyed with not entirely concealed reluctance, and was so preoccupied, she rallied him upon his reserve.
“I believe you and Constance had a quarrel on the road.” Maliciously. “I hope you were more amiable than my companion. He hardly spoke a word, and, when I left him”––her voice sank to a whisper––“I heard him swear.”
“He pleased you so much earlier in the day that a duel will probably be the outcome.”
Susan laughed gaily.
“A duel! Then my fortune is made. All the newspapers 256 will contain paragraphs. It is too good to be true.” And she clapped her hands. “When is it to take place? Tell me about it!”
Then noting his manner, she continued with an assumption of plaintiveness: “Now you are cross with me! You think me heartless. Is it my fault? I care nothing for either of them and I am not to be blamed if they are so foolish. It might be different if either had touched my heart.” And she assumed a coquettish demeanor, while Saint-Prosper coolly studied her through the wreaths of smoke from his weed.
“You are wondering what sort of a person I am!” she continued, merrily, raising her glass of wine with: “To unrequited passion!”