But Regina also was cross, and did not listen.
The heat made everybody cross and stupid. Regina, moreover, felt at the end of her forces; her pride and her dignity were bending like leaves scorched by the sun. She was anxiously expecting to be joined by Antonio. Perhaps to-day she would really be given a sign; what sort of sign she did not know, but she waited. She waited; ashamed of being in this house, of facing that old woman, who was as impassive as a deaf sphinx; yet ashamed also of being ashamed.
While she waited her memory was busy. The very smallest sign would be sufficient now she had gone over the past, and called up with clearness and intensity each act, each word, which might have an equivocal signification. To-day the bitter-sweet perfume of lilac which pervaded the room reminded her of another occasion two years ago; of words, bitter as the perfume, spoken by herself, and of Marianna's terrible reply.
"To be poor in Rome is to be like a beggar gnawing a bone at the shut door of a palace."
"Just so; and presently the rich man's dog comes by and snatches from the beggar's hand even the bone!"
Ah! Mademoiselle knew the world! While Regina was recalling the distressed and ironical look which the Princess had given her that day, just before her flight, Marianna brought her some tea and began to tell the misdeeds of a very elegant gentleman who frequented Madame's receptions.
"They say he has really lived on the creatures," she said, "and when they can't do any more for him, he flings them away like sucked lemons."
"So much the worse for them," said Regina. "After all, he's the strongest and——"
"Ah! I forgot you were a super-woman!" said Marianna, in a low voice. Then she laughed. "Will you have some more tea?"
Swift and terrible as the thunderbolt came the thought to Regina—