"Bravo!" cried Amy, clapping her hands. "That is very prettily said, isn't it?"
I was silent. I never could endure compliments. They are seldom sincere, and it gives me no pleasure to be told lies, however prettily they may be worded. Signor Cellini appeared to divine my thoughts, for he said in a lower tone:
"Pardon me, mademoiselle; I see my observation displeased you; but there is more truth in it than you perhaps know."
"Oh, say!" interrupted Mrs. Everard at this juncture; "I am SO interested, signor, to hear you are engaged! I suppose she is a dream of beauty?"
The hot colour rushed to my cheeks, and I bit my lips in confusion and inquietude. What WOULD he answer? My anxiety was not of long duration. Cellini smiled, and seemed in no way surprised. He said quietly:
"Who told you, madame, that I am engaged?"
"Why, she did, of course!" went on my friend, nodding towards me, regardless of an imploring look I cast at her. "And said you were perfectly devoted!"
"She is quite right," replied Cellini, with another of those rare sweet smiles of his; "and you also are right, madame, in your supposition: my betrothed is a Dream of Beauty."
I was infinitely relieved. I had not, then, been guilty of a falsehood. But the mystery remained: how had I discovered the truth of the matter at all? While I puzzled my mind over this question, the other lady who had accompanied Mrs. Everard spoke. She was an Austrian of brilliant position and attainments.
"You quite interest me, signor!" she said. "Is your fair fiancee here to-night?"