Ah, I had roused her now, but to anger, not to love. She sprang back from me, her eyes flashing.
“You insult me!” she cried.
“Is it possible?” I asked, with a smile.
Her answer was brief, it was stormy, and it was not very flattering to myself; evidently she was genuinely indignant.
And I—yes, I was beginning to see the ordinary little bits of glass that had made so dazzling a kaleidoscope. I had been upbraiding Dulcinea with not being indeed the lady of Toboso; and that honest maiden was naturally incensed at my language.
I fear that in the polite apology I made her, I allowed this discovery to be too apparent. Again she was in arms, and this time with considerable dramatic effect.
“Oh, I know what you think!” she cried. “You think that because I don't make a fuss about you, I have no sentiments. If you were worth it you would see that I could be—”
She paused.
“What?” I asked.
With the privilege of woman, she slightly changed the line of argument.