He went away then to talk to somebody else, and presently Madame de Montevesso, passing close to Cosmo, whispered to him, “Stay to the last,” and went on without waiting for his answer. Cosmo amongst all the groups engaged in animated conversation felt rather lonely, totally estranged from the ideas those people were expressing to each other. He could not possibly be in sympathy with the fears and the hopes, strictly personal, and with the royalist-legitimist enthusiasms of these advocates of an order of things that had been buried for a quarter of a century and now was paraded like a rouged and powdered corpse putting on a swagger of life and revenge. Then he reflected that in this room, at any rate, it was probably nothing but scandalous gossip and trivial talk of futile intrigues. There was no need for him to be indignant. He was even amused at himself, and looking about him in a kindlier frame of mind he perceived that the person nearest to him was that strange girl with the round eyes. She had kept perfectly still on her uncomfortable stool like a captured savage. Her green flounced skirt was spread on each side of the seat. The bodice of her dress, which was black, was cut low, her bare arms were youthfully red and immature. Her hair was done up smoothly and pulled up from her forehead in the manner of the portraits of the 15th Century.
“Why do they dress her in this bizarre manner?” thought Cosmo. It couldn’t be Adèle’s conception. Perhaps of the Count himself. Yet that didn’t seem likely. Perhaps it was her own atrocious taste. But if so it ought to have been repressed. He reflected that there could be nothing improper in him talking to the niece of the house. He would try his conversational Italian. With the feeling of venturing on a doubtful experiment he approached her from the back, sat down at her elbow, and waited. She could not possibly remain unaware of him being there.
At last she turned her head for a point-blank stare, and once she had her eyes on him she never attempted to take them away. Cosmo uttered carefully a complimentary phrase about her dress, which was received in perfect silence. Her carmine lips remained as still as her round black eyes for quite a long time. Suddenly in a low tone, with an accent which surprised Cosmo but which he supposed to be Piedmontese, and with a sort of spiteful triumph, she said:
“I knew very well it would suit me. You think it does?”
Her whole personality had such an aggressive mien that Cosmo, startled and amused, hastened to say, “Undoubtedly,” lest she should fly at his eyes.
She showed him her teeth in a grin of savage complacency, and the subject seemed exhausted. Cosmo set himself the task to daunt her by a steady gaze. In less than two seconds he regretted his venture. He felt certain that she would not be the one to look away first. There was not the slightest doubt about that. In order to cover his retreat he let his eyes wander vaguely about the room, smiled agreeably, and said: “Your uncle is not here. Shall I have the pleasure of seeing him this evening?”
“No,” she said. “You won’t see him this evening. But he knows you have been here this morning.”
This was, strictly speaking, news to Cosmo, but he said at once and with great indifference:
“Why shouldn’t he? Probably Madame de Montevesso has told him. I used to know your aunt when she was younger than you are, signorina.”
“How do you know how old I am?”
Cosmo asked himself if she would ever wink those black eyes of hers.
“I know that you are not a hundred years old.”
This struck her as humorous, because there was a sound as of a faint giggle which, generally speaking, is a silly kind of sound but in her case had a disturbing quality. It was followed by the hoarse declaration:
“Aunt didn’t. I told Uncle. I looked a lot at you in the morning. Why didn’t you look at me?”
“I was afraid of being indiscreet,” said Cosmo readily, concealing his astonishment.
“What silliness,” she commented scornfully. “And this evening too! I was looking at you all the time and you did nothing but look at all those witches here, one after another.”
“I find all the ladies in the room perfectly charming,” said Cosmo.
“You lie. I suppose you do nothing else from morning till night.”
“I am sorry you have such a bad opinion of me, but it being what it is, hadn’t I better go away?”
“Directly I set eyes on you I knew you were one of that sort.”
“And did you impart your opinion of me to your uncle?” asked Cosmo. He could be no more offended with that girl than if she had been an unmannerly animal. Her peculiar stare remained unchanged but her general expression softened for a moment.
“No. But I took care to tell him that you were a very handsome gentleman. … You are a very handsome gentleman.”
What surprised Cosmo was not the downright statement but the thought that flashed through his mind that it was as dreadful as being told that one was good to eat. For a time he stared without any thought of unwinking competition. He was not amused. Distinctly not. He asked:
“Where were you born?”
“How can
