"Has this Victor any history?" asked the English Duke.
"He has written one with his sword; a fine one," said Cigarette curtly.
"We are not given here to care much about any other."
"Quite right; I asked because a friend of mine who had seen his carvings
wished to serve him, if it were possible; and--"
"Ho! That is Milady, is suppose!" Cigarette's eyes flashed fire
instantly, in wrath and suspicion. "What did she tell you about him?"
"I am ignorant of whom you speak?" he answered, with something of
surprise and annoyance.
"Are you?" said Cigarette, in derision. "I doubt that. Of whom should I
speak but of her? Bah? She insulted him, she offered him gold, she sent
my men the spoils of her table, as if they were paupers, and he thinks
it all divine because it is done by Mme. la Princesse Corona d'Amague!
Bah! when he was delirious, the other night, he could babble of nothing
but of her--of her--of her!"
The jealous, fiery impatience in her vanquished every other thought; she
was a child in much, she was untutored in all; she had no thought that
by the scornful vituperation of "Milady" she could either harm Cecil or
betray herself. But she was amazed to see the English guest change
color with a haughty anger that he strove to subdue as he half rose and
answered her with an accent in his voice that reminded her--she knew not
why--of Bel-a-faire-peur and of Marquise.
"Mme. la Princess Corona d'Amague is my sister; why do you venture to
couple the name of this Chasseur with hers?"
Cigarette sprang to her feet, vivacious, imperious, reckless, dared to
anything by the mere fact of being publicly arraigned.
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