“Repeated?—repeated? I believe you were there, in some room or closet close by; you heard everything.”
“It was so, I confess,” replied Cristiano, who saw that she would confide in him more quickly if he took advantage of her innocent suggestion. “I was in my uncle’s bed-room, arranging his papers. Without his knowledge, and in spite of myself, I heard everything.”
“That is very pleasant, upon my word!” said Margaret, somewhat confused, and yet pleased without knowing why; “instead of one confidante it seems that I had two.”
“Your confession seemed to be that of an angel; but I am beginning to be afraid that it was in reality that of a demon.”
“Thanks for your good opinion. Will you tell me what has caused it?”
“A strange insincerity that I cannot explain. You described Baron Olaus as a monster, physically and morally—”
“Excuse me, monsieur; you did not understand me. I called him disagreeable, terrible; I never said that he was ugly.”
“And yet you might have said so truthfully; for to speak plainly, he is abominably ugly.”
“It is true that his hard and cold expression makes him seem so; but every one agrees that he has very fine features.”
“The people of this country have a singular standard; but there is no disputing about tastes! I do not agree with them. He seems to me ugly and deformed, but comical and good-humored.”