“I should not boast of it,” answered Etta; “there is nothing to be proud of. It is easy enough to be bold if you are certain of victory.”
“When defeat would be intolerable, even a certain victory requires care! And I cannot afford to lose.”
“Lose what?” enquired Etta.
De Chauxville looked at her, but he did not answer. The music was soft again.
“I suppose that at Osterno you set no value upon a bear-skin,” he said after a pause.
“We have many,” admitted Etta. “But I love fur, or trophies of any description. Paul has killed a great deal.”
“Ah!”
“Yes,” answered Etta, and the music rose again. “I should like to know,” she went on, “upon what assumption you make use of a word which does not often—annoy me.”
“I have a good memory, madame. Besides,” he paused, looking round the room, “there are associations within these walls which stimulate the memory.”
“What do you mean?” asked Etta, in a hard voice. The hand holding the album suddenly shook like a leaf in the wind.