"H-m! To a soirée at Madame Zingarelli Spatzig's! Pardon me, does any one go to her house?"
"All Rome, especially the distinguished foreigners. She entertains a great deal. She brought Spatzig a considerable fortune."
"Yes, yes; she sang third rôles in Morelli's troupe in Russia. It is very tolerable to sing third rôles in a travelling Italian opera troupe!" Lensky laughed significantly.
Perfection was silent.
"But do not be so sanctimonious," now cried Lensky. "It certainly cannot be unknown to you that Zingarelli was a quite common courtesan."
"I know nothing of that," replied Perfection, coldly, with the suitable dignity with which a man of the world corrects a forward person who dares bring to light his facts of the past, which the man of the world has buried for his convenience. At the same time the pianist had risen from his chair. He took his hat. "Well, will you forget the old grudge, Lensky? May I tell Frau Spatzig that you are coming?"
"You are here in her commission?" cried Lensky, to whom a new reason for Perfection's manner had occurred.
Perfection, who had not found it hard to answer before, remained silent.
"I understand," said Lensky. "She needs me to show me. One knows by what arts such women charm society to their drawing-rooms. It would please her to lead about the old lion by a chain. There may even be a little advantage for him to permit it"--with a sharp glance at Perfection--"but--" He now stood before Perfection, drawn up to his full height, and gloomy. With a gesture which was peculiar to him when greatly excited, he raised his arms and clenched his fists.
"You can tell her," cried he, slowly letting his arms sink--"you can tell her that I would rather stand in the pillory and be stared at by the passers-by than set foot over the threshold of the Spatzig couple. It would seem less degrading to me than to sue for the favor of this pack of idiots."