“I never answer letters that are either reproachful or abusive,” she replied, “even though they may be from the Marquis Montelupo, His Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs.”
“If you had deigned to do so, it would have obviated the necessity of me coming from Rome to see you at all this personal risk.”
“It’s well that you risk something, as well as myself. I’ve risked enough, Heaven knows!” she answered.
“And you’ve found at last a confounded idiot of a lover who will prove our ruin.”
“My love is no concern of yours,” she cried quickly. “He may be left entirely out of the question. He knows nothing; and further, I’ve parted from him.”
“Because he has ascertained who you really are,” the great statesman said.
“For that I have to thank you,” she retorted quickly. “If you had been a trifle more considerate and had not allowed the police of Livorno to act as they did, he would still have been in ignorance.”
“I acted as I thought fit,” her companion said in an authoritative tone, lighting another cigarette from the still burning end of the one he had just consumed.
“You’ve brought me here to abuse me!” she cried, her eyes flashing fiercely upon him.
“Because you played me false,” he answered bitterly. “You thought it possible to conceal your identity, marry this young fool of an Englishman, and get away somewhere where you would not be discovered. For that reason you’ve played this double game.” Then he added meaningly, “It’s only what I ought to have expected of a woman with such a reputation as yours.”