‘Ah! And if you had? I suppose you would not permit Lady Worth to accept my challenge?’
‘I am sure he would not,’ said Judith. ‘I did once engage in something of that nature—in my wild salad days, you know—and fell under his gravest displeasure. I must decline therefore, for all I should like to accept your challenge.’
‘Conciliating!’ Barbara said with a harsh little laugh. She saw Judith’s eyes kindle, and said impulsively: ‘Now I’ve made you angry! I am glad! You look splendid just so! I could like you very well, I think.’
‘I hope you may,’ Judith replied formally.
‘I will; but you must not be forbearing with me, if you please. There! I am behaving abominably, and I meant to be so good!’
She clasped Judith’s hand briefly, allowed her a glimpse of her frank smile, and turned from her to greet Lavisse, who was coming towards her across the room.
He looked pale. He came stalking up to Barbara, and stood over her, not offering to take her hand, not even according her a bow. Their eyes were nearly on a level, hers full of mockery, his blazing with anger. He said under his breath: ‘Is it true, then?’
She chuckled. ‘This is in the style of a hero of romance, Etienne. It is true!’
‘You have engaged yourself to this Colonel Audley? I would not believe!’
‘Felicitate me!’
‘Never! I do not wish you happy, I! I wish you only regret.’
‘That’s refreshing, at all events.’
He saw several pairs of eyes fixed upon him, and with a muttered exclamation clasped Barbara round the waist and swept her into the waltz. His left hand gripped her right one; his arm was hard about her, holding her too close for decorum. ‘Je t’aime; entends tu, je t’aime!’
‘You are out of time,’ she replied.
‘Ah, qu’importe?’ he exclaimed. He moderated his steps, however, and said in a quieter tone: ‘You knew I loved you! This Colonel, what can he be to you?’
‘Why, don’t you know? A husband!’
‘And it is I who love you—yes, en désespére!’
‘But I do not remember that you ever offered for this hand of mine, Etienne.’ She tilted her head back to look at him under the sweep of her lashes. ‘That gives you to think, eh, my friend? Terrible, that word marriage!’
‘Effroyant! Yet I offer it!’
‘Too late!’
‘I do not believe! What has he, this Colonel, that I have not? It is not money! A great position?’
‘No!
‘Expectations, perhaps?’
‘Not even expectations!’
‘In the name of God, what then?’
‘Nothing!’ she answered.
‘You do it to tease me! You are not serious, in fact. Listen, little angel, little fool! I will give you a proud name, I will give you wealth, everything that you desire! I will adore you—ah, but worship you!’
She said judicially: ‘A proud name Charles will give me—if I cared for such stuff! Wealth? Yes, I should like that. Worship! So boring, Etienne, so damnably boring!’
‘I could break your neck!’ he said.
‘Fustian!’