Beaumont gazed at her in admiration for her boldness, in compassion for her temerity and want of worldly wisdom.
“I have done business sometimes, madame, in Paris,” he said softly, “with persons of your sex who are not considered, there, pure enough to sit beside you in the tribune at Chantilly, or at the Institute, or at the Chambers. But amongst those horizontales I never knew one quite of your force. Je vous en fais mes compliments.”
Angry blood flew into the fair cheeks of his debtor; her blue eyes flashed like stormy summer skies; her hand clenched till her rings cut into the skin.
“You dare to insult me because my lord is dead!”
Cocky in memory really appeared to her, at this moment, as a very tower of strength.
Beaumont made a little gesture of smiling protestation.
“Oh, madame, if your lord were living he would not make much difference to me in this matter, or to any action of your creditors. But he would certainly have apprehended the situation more quickly than you do.”
“You are an insolent!”
She would have reached to touch the button of the electric bell, but Beaumont interposed.
“Do not make a scandal, duchesse; I shall not, if you do not press me too far. I am not your enemy. I never expose women if I can help it. Nature made them dishonest; jewels and money are to them what cherries and apples are to schoolboys. That is why they are so much better shut up in harems. However, I came for strict business; let us limit ourselves to it. You say I cannot go into a tribunal. You have relied upon that fact. But it is a rotten staff to lean on; it is not a fact. I both can and will go into any number of tribunals about this matter. They may nonsuit me. I may, perhaps, lose both the diamond and the money; but I have plenty of money and no children, and it will amuse me, madame, to see you cross-examined. It will not amuse you.”