"Eh, sir,—you won't?"
"No, madam."
"Why, then, I will!" Here the ancient lady glanced up at Barnabas with a malicious little smile. "Let me see, now—what were her words? 'Spy,' I think. Ah, yes—'a creeping spy,' 'a fool' and 'a coward.' Really, I don't think I could have bettered that—even in my best days,—especially the 'creeping spy.'"
"Madam," said Barnabas in frowning surprise, "you were listening?"
"At the back of the arbor," she nodded, "with my ear to the panelling,
—I am sometimes a little deaf, you see."
"You mean that you were—actually prying—?"
"And I enjoyed it all very much, especially your 'immaculate' speech, which was very heroic, but perfectly ridiculous, of course. Indeed, you are a dreadfully young, young sir, I fear. In future, I warn you not to tell a woman, too often, how much you respect her, or she'll begin to think you don't love her at all. To be over-respectful doesn't sit well on a lover, and 'tis most unfair and very trying to the lady, poor soul!"
"To hearken to a private conversation doesn't sit well on a lady, madam, or an honorable woman."
"No, indeed, young sir. But then, you see, I'm neither. I'm only a Duchess, and a very old one at that, and I think I told you I wore a wig? But 'all the world loves a lover,' and so do I. As soon as ever I saw you I knew you for a lover of the 'everything-or-nothing' type. Oh, yes, all lovers are of different types, sir, and I think I know 'em all. You see, when I was young and beautiful—ages ago—lovers were a hobby of mine,—I studied them, sir. And, of 'em all, I preferred the 'everything-or-nothing, fire-and-ice, kiss-me-or-kill-me' type. That was why I followed you, that was why I watched and listened, and, I grieve to say, I didn't find you as deliciously brutal as I had hoped."
"Brutal, madam? Indeed, I—"