She looked at him to see if he could really say all this with a serious countenance; she saw that he could; his handsome fair features were without the ghost of a smile and his whole expression was grave, sincere, attuned to admiring candor.
“If he takes it like that I had best take it so too,” thought Mouse, who was aware that she was but a mere beginner and baby beside him in the delicate arts of dissimulation. But Nature had made her proud, inclined to be blunt and sarcastic, and occasionally unwisely inclined to frankness; she looked him straight in the eyes now, and said:
“But you and I are going to do our duty to our fellow Christians, and polish them, aren’t we? I was quite straight with you about the purchase of Vale Royal; but you weren’t so straight with me about Harrenden House. Don’t you think, Prince, we can do our friends more good if we are friends ourselves? Quarreling is always a mistake.”
He bowed and smiled. His smooth delicate features expressed neither annoyance nor pleasure, neither wonder nor surprise.
“I am always Lady Kenilworth’s devoted servant,” he said graciously, with the air of a suzerain accepting homage. “I am sorry you think that I should have consulted you about the town-house,” he added. “It did not occur to me; you were in Egypt. I never offend or forget those who wish me well—of that you may be sure. It was amusing to arrange that house, and one could be of so much use to artists and other deserving people of talent.”
Mouse laughed, rather rudely, and her laughter brought a slight angry flush to the cheek of Prince Khris. He had both noble and royal blood in his veins, and at the sound of that derisive little laugh he could have strangled her with pleasure. By an odd contradiction, Lady Kenilworth offended him by precisely that same kind of bluntness and nakedness of speech with which her brother had offended herself. The delicate euphemisms which she expected to have used to please herself seemed to her altogether ridiculous when they were required by another person.
“Englishwomen are always so coarse,” he thought; “they never understand veiled phrases. They will call their spade a spade. There is no need to do so, whether you are digging a grave with it or digging for gold; it can always be a drawing-room fire-shovel for other people, whatever work it may accomplish.
“Yes, you are quite right, dear lady,” he added, after a slight pause. “The task is not a light one; we will divide its difficulties. I have experience that you have not yet gained; you have influence that I have—alas!—lost. Let us take counsel together. Our friends the Massarenes are good people—excellent people; it is a pleasure to guide them in the way they should go.”
He remained with her half an hour, and only left her when it was announced that her carriage was waiting below. He kissed her hand with all the reverential grace which a fine gentleman can lend to his farewell; but as he descended the staircase and went into the street, he swore under his breath.
“There is no devil like a blonde devil!” he thought. “Mouse they call her! A rat! a rat! with teeth as sharp as nails and claws which can cling like a flying bat’s! It is little use for the world to have made woman all these thousands of years; she remains just what she was in Eve’s time, in Eriphyle’s time—always the same—always purchasable, always venal, always avaricious! Ah! why was this rodent not my daughter? We would have made the world our oyster, and no one should have known the taste of an oyster but ourselves!”