“It is possible, madame. There have been cases in which women have ruined the lives of men who were foolish enough to trust them.”
“You speak bitterly, Count. And what, in your opinion, is the usual effect of such behaviour upon the man?”
“Simply, madame, that he determines never to place his future in the power of a woman again.”
“Ah, you cherish your hatred so long, you men! We women soon grow tired of perpetual animosities. But have you ever known what it is to be so deceived, Count?”
“I have, madame.”
“And—and did you come to the usual determination?”
“Madame, I thought I had—until a week ago.”
The compliment was commonplace enough, but something in the tome, and in the glance which accompanied it, thrilled the heart of the Princess. Almost for the first time in her life she blushed like a girl, and she changed the subject with a haste and maladroitness that showed how deeply she was moved.
“By-the-bye, Count, I want you to tell me how your scheme is progressing. Is it true that, as I see by this morning’s paper, opposition to it is springing up in England?”
“Scarcely, madame. A vexatious incident has occurred, that is all.”