Gwendolen averted her face. "The truth is, Yuki, mother takes Pierre's part. Nothing that dad or I can say has influence. That awful Mrs. Stunt owns mother now, body and soul; and Mrs. Stunt has no tender feelings to spare for her own sex."
"I am not surprised at your mother, or even greatly hurt. It is right that—he—should have friends to sympathize. Say to your mother, please, that I do not resent."
"I'll say nothing of the kind!" cried Gwendolen, indignantly. "It would please Mrs. Stunt too much. Oh, they will be waiting to question me about you. Mrs. Stunt's eyes will glare like those of a hungry hyena. I shall tell them that you are superbly indifferent. That will fetch them! Mrs. Stunt, as it is, will be the first to enter your reception-rooms,—the odious little painted ghoul!"
All brightness had faded from the young faces. Each stared upon troubled visions. "Since we are on such topics, Yuki," Gwendolen began, "I might as well tell you and have done with it,—Pierre himself is acting like a spoiled child, a cad. He wants to make trouble."
"His threat is to harm Prince Haganè, is it not?"
"Yes! But who told you?" She looked sharply at her companion. Yuki apparently had not heard. Gwendolen went on. "Dad simply laughs at him for a foolish blusterer. He says a cricket might as well shake its fists at a grain elevator."
"There is no rumor at all that Pierre may go home to France?"
"Absolutely none. Ronsard is using him as a cat's-paw. Since your marriage Pierre has been openly announced Second Secretary of the French Legation. A sinecure, but it gives him entrée to all court functions,—to official receptions,—to—your reception, Yuki."
"I have thought of this also," said Yuki. "He could not harm my husband in such an open place."
"No, but with that demon of a Ronsard behind him he could embarrass, perhaps mortify, both you and Haganè."