He spoke coaxingly, and with a faint smile; but she did not lift her eyes. “You know there must be no trifling with such a person, Lawrence. Why need you wish to speak to Anita? Is it impossible for you to see an interesting girl without trying to captivate her? You need not be proud of such success.”
He threw himself back on the cushions again. “Oh! if you are jealous, there is no more to be said about it.”
As she remained silent, he presently stole a questioning glance into her face, and, seeing the cloud on it, smiled again. It always amused him to see any evidence of his power over women, and no proof could be stronger than the sight of their pain.
“Don’t be silly now, Ninon!” he said softly. “You know I don’t mean to trifle nor flirt, but only to satisfy my curiosity. I never spoke to a young vestal like that, and I would like to know what sort of language they use. Be good, dear!”
That coaxing voice could still make her smile, though it could no longer cheat her into delight. She looked at him indulgently, as one looks at a spoilt child whom one has no desire to reprove, yet sighs over. “I will do what I can, Lawrence; but you must be careful not to behave so that the sisters will wish to exclude you in future.”
“That’s a good girl!”
Then his momentary gaiety dropped off like a mask.
“Yes, I like to see that kind of religion,” he resumed. “But I hate a gilt-edged piety. I despise those people who are so nice that they call the devil ‘the D., you know,’ and whose religion is all promenade-dress and genuflections. I suspect them. I was talking the other day with a lady who said something about the ‘D., you know,’ and I answered, ‘No, I don’t know. What do you mean?’ She had to say it; and I haven’t a doubt she always says it when she is angry. Bah!”
They had reached the gate, and, seeing no one, alighted and left the carriage there. But Sister Cecilia met them at the entrance, her welcoming smile like a benediction.