“The poor King! Upon my soul, he has my sympathy,” said Ferdinand.
“You are terribly ironical,” said she.
“Irony was ten thousand leagues from my intention,” he protested. “In all sincerity the object of your indignation has my sympathy. I trust you will not consider it an impertinence if I say that I already count you among the few people I have met whose good opinion is a matter to be coveted.”
She had risen while he was speaking, and now she bobbed him a little curtsey. “I will show my appreciation of yours, by taking flight before anything can happen to alter it,” she laughed, moving away.
V
“You are singularly animated to-night,” said Hilary, contemplating him across the dinner-table; “yet, at the same time, singularly abstracted. You have the air of a man who is rolling something pleasant under his tongue, something sweet and secret: it might be a hope, it might be a recollection. Where have you passed the afternoon? You’ve been about some mischief, I’ll warrant. By Jove, you set me thinking. I’ll wager a penny you’ve been having a bit of rational conversation with that brown-haired woman.”
“Her hair is red,” Ferdinand Augustus rejoined, with firmness. “And her conversation,” he added sadly, “is anything you please but rational. She spent her whole time picking flaws in the character of the King. She talked downright treason. She said he was the scandal of Europe and the frankest egotist in two hemispheres.”
“Ah? She appears to have some instinct for the correct use of language,” commented Hilary.
“All the same, I rather like her,” Ferdinand went on, “and I’m half inclined to undertake her conversion. She has a gorgeous figure—there’s something rich and voluptuous about it. And there are depths of promise in her eyes; there are worlds of humour and of passion. And she has a mouth—oh, of a fulness, of a softness, of a warmth! And a chin, and a throat, and hands! And then, her voice. There’s a mellowness yet a crispness, there’s a vibration, there’s a something in her voice that assures you of a golden temperament beneath it. In short, I’m half inclined to follow your advice, and go in for a love-adventure with her.”
“Oh, but love-adventures—I have it on high authority—are damnable iterations,” objected Hilary.