“To begin with, you say that I did not show you consideration. Few princes have been shown like consideration.”
“I was wrong. It is not every man that has a countess—and a pretty one, too!—thrown at his head.”
Madame was temporarily silenced by this retort; it upset her calculations. She scrutinized the clean, smooth face, and she saw lines which had hitherto escaped her notice. She was at last convinced that she had to contend with a man, a man who had dealt with both men and women. How deep was he? Could honors, such as she could give, and money plumb the depths?... He was an American. She smiled the smile of duplicity.
“Monsieur,” she said, “do you lack wealth?”
“Yes, I lack it; but that is not to say that I desire it.”
“Perhaps it is honors you desire?”
“Honors? To what greater honor may I aspire than that which is written in my passports?”
“What is written in your passports?”
“That I am a citizen of the United States of America. It would not be good taste in me to accept honors save those that my country may choose to confer.”
Again Madame found her foil turned aside. She began to lose patience. Her boot patted the sod. “Monsieur, since the countess is not high enough, since gold and honors have no charm, listen.”