"Take care of yourself, mon ami! C'est tout ce que je vous dis."
"Now, mademoiselle, what is the matter, that you should look and speak in that manner?" he asked, still in the same good-humoured tone, as if he would fain pass the affair away in a joke. "I'm sure I have enough bother upon me, without your adding to it."
"What is your bother?"
"Never mind: it would give you no pleasure to know it. It is caused by Anthony—and be hanged to him!"
"Anthony is worth ten of you!" fiercely responded mademoiselle.
"Every one to his own liking," carelessly remarked Herbert. "It's well for me that all the world does not think as you do, mademoiselle."
Mademoiselle looked as though she would like to beat him. "So!" she foamed, drawing back her bloodless lips; "now that your turn is served, Bianca Varsini may just be sent to the enfer! Garde-toi, mon camarade!"
"Garde your voice," replied Herbert. "The cows yonder will think it's a tempest. I wish my turn was served, in more ways than one. What particular turn do you mean? If it's buying Tasso, I'll purchase it from you at double price."
He could not help giving her a little chaff. It was what he would have called it: chaff. Exacting people fretted his generally easy temper, and he was beginning to fear that she would detain him until it was too late to see Anna.
But, on the latter score, he was set at rest. With a few words, spoken in Italian, she nodded her head angrily at him, and turned away. Fierce words, in spite of their low tone, Herbert was sure they were, but he could not catch one of them. Had he caught them all, it would have come to the same, so far as his understanding went. Excellent as Signora Varsini's method of teaching Italian may have been, her lessons had not as yet been very efficient for Herbert Dare.