"To whom, I beseech you, old friend, present me."
"I would not," he said hotly, "desecrate her sweet name by speaking it with so infamous a name as yours."
"Your choler hurts me, old friend," said La Gambogi, sinking composedly upon the garden-seat and smoothing the silk of her skirts.
"Jenny," said George, "then do you retire, pending this lady's departure, to the cottage." But Jenny clung to his arm. "I were less frightened at your side," she whispered. "Do not send me away!"
"Suffer her pretty presence," said La Gambogi. "Indeed I am come this long way from the heart of the town, that I may see her, no less than you, George. My wish is only to befriend her. Why should she not set you a mannerly example, giving me welcome? Come and sit by me, little bride, for I have things to tell you. Though you reject my friendship, give me, at least, the slight courtesy of audience. I will not detain you overlong, will be gone very soon. Are you expecting guests, George? On dirait une masque champêtre!" She eyed the couple critically. "Your wife's mask," she said, "is even better than yours."
"What does she mean?" whispered Jenny. "Oh, send her away!"
"Serpent," was all George could say, "crawl from our Eden, ere you poison with your venom its fairest denizen."
La Gambogi rose. "Even my pride," she cried passionately, "knows certain bounds. I have been forbearing, but even in my zeal for friendship I will not be called 'serpent.' I will indeed be gone from this rude place. Yet, ere I go, there is a boon I will deign to beg. Show me, oh, show me but once again, the dear face I have so often caressed, the lips that were dear to me!"
George started back.
"What does she mean?" whispered Jenny.