The power of punishment was always sweet to her; it seemed to her that when a woman had lost it she had lost everything that made life worth living. She had not heard that he had accompanied Damaris home himself because she had not inquired about it, but she had guessed that he had done so. It was a silly thing to have done, exaggerated, quixotic; but then he had those coups de tête at intervals; he had always had them in great things and small; they made him poetic and picturesque, but occasionally they made him absurd. He seemed to her to have been absurd now; he could have sent the girl home with a gardener or a servant, with anybody who could handle a boat, if she must have gone home at all: she herself did not see the necessity. But a vague irritation against Damaris came into her as she sank to sleep between her sheets of lawn.
Une sensitive, une entêtée! If there were any two qualities wearisome to others were they not those? No one was allowed to be either nervous or headstrong in her world. When she came in contact with either fault she was annoyed, as when gas escaped or a horse was restive.
'She has talent, and I would have aided her,' she thought, 'but since she is obstinate and thankless, let her marry Gros Louis and have a dozen children and forget all about Esther and Hermione. The world, on the whole, wants olives and oranges more than actresses, good or bad. Myself, I never understand why one should wish to see a play represented at all when one can read it; it argues great feebleness of imagination to require optical and oral assistance.'
The next day, however, when she saw Othmar she said to him with her most gracious grace and that charm with which she could invest her slightest word:
'I think you were right, my friend, and I was wrong, about that poor little girl on her island. I did not behave very well to her. I sought her, and ought to have made her of more account. Shall I go and see her again, or what shall I do to make her amends?'
Othmar kissed her hand.
'That is like yourself! You are too great a lady to be cruel to a little peasant. As for amends to her, I think the kindest thing you can do now is to let her forget you, and, with you, the ambitions which you suggested to her.'
She looked at him with penetration, amusement, and a little scepticism.
'She is very handsome; do you wish her to forget you?' she said with a smile. 'I am sure you must have told her you will go and see her again.'
Othmar was annoyed to feel himself a little embarrassed.