Corsini could easily have retorted that La Belle Quéro, in her professional capacity, attended many houses where the women showed her as scant courtesy as the autocratic Prince displayed towards him; but he was of too chivalrous a nature to hurt the pride of a woman.
Anyway, she did not give him the real reason, which he still believed to be that unworthy jealousy of the charming young Princess.
He shrugged his shoulders in real, or assumed, indifference. “I must not say too much about this Zouroff, because we all know he is a great friend of yours. He certainly might take a lesson in manners, but I don’t know that his want of them affects me very greatly.”
“Still, his discourtesy hurts you, or you would not have dwelt upon it so often as you have done,” retorted Madame, woman-like following out her point.
Corsini rose; he was rather tired of the argument.
“If it is so, Madame, I shall not pay him the compliment of staying away. I would not give him the triumph of thinking that he was capable of hurting me.”
She saw it was useless. “It must be as you wish, Signor;” there was a note of sadness in her voice as she turned away. She left the room, murmuring to herself, “I have tried my best. It is the sister who draws him, and she must wish as fervently as I do that he would stay away.”
It was early in the evening when she had sought this interview, and as the hours sped on, bringing Corsini nearer to the time of his appointment, her agitation increased. If she could only know if the Princess had thought of anything, if she had taken any steps to prevent the tragedy which she felt sure was impending.
With a woman of her nervous and excitable temperament, to express a wish was to carry it swiftly into execution. The Opera finished early that night. She drove home at once to her villa, summoned her maid, and bade her change her costume.