Her eyebrows now stood up; her contemplation of those disenchanting lineaments came to an abrupt finish.
She returned the square card to him, slowly shaking her head, still eyeing earth as her hand stretched forth the card laterally. He could not contest the woeful verdict.
'Twenty years back!' he murmured, writhing. The baroness was a woman fair to see in the days twenty years back, though Clotilde might think it incredible: she really was once.
Clotilde resumed her doleful shaking of the head; she sighed. He shrugged; she looked at him, and he blinked a little. For the first time since they had come together she had a clear advantage, and as it was likely to be a rare occasion, she did not let it slip. She sighed again. He was wounded by her underestimate of his ancient conquest.
'Yes—now,' he said, impatiently.
'I cannot feel jealousy, I cannot feel rivalry,' said she, sad of voice.
The humour of her tranced eyes in the shaking head provoked him to defend the baroness for her goodness of heart, her energy of brain.
Clotilde 'tolled' her naughty head.
'But it is a strong face,' she said, 'a strong face—a strong jaw, by Lavater! You were young—and daringly adventurous; she was captivating in her distress. Now she is old—and you are friends.'
'Friends, yes,' Alvan replied, and praised the girl, as of course she deserved to be praised for her open mind.