red to take himself
off from her presence for ever, in that voice the very anger of which
seemed to twine itself gently round one's heart. No wonder the poor
wretch could not forget the scene and couldn't restrain his tears on the
plain of Rambouillet. My moods of resentment against Rita, hot as they
were, had no more duration than a blaze of straw. So I only said:

"Much _you_ know about the management of children." The corners of her
lips stirred quaintly; her animosity, especially when provoked by a
personal attack upon herself, was always tinged by a sort of wistful
humour of the most disarming kind.

"Come, _amigo_ George, let us leave poor Rose alone. You had better tell
me what you heard from the lips of the charming old lady. Perfection,
isn't she? I have never seen her in my life, though she says she has
seen me several times. But she has written to me on three separate
occasions and every time I answered her as if I were writing to a queen.
_Amigo_ George, how does one write to a queen? How should a goatherd
that could have been mistress of a king, how should she write to an old
queen from very far away; from over the sea?"

"I will ask you as I have asked the old queen: why do you tell me all
this, Dona Rita?"

"To discover what's in your mind," she said, a little impatiently.

"If you don't know that yet!" I exclaimed under my breath.

"No, not in your mind. Can any one ever tell what is in a man's mind?
But I see you won't tell."

"What's the good? You have written to her before, I understand. Do you
think of continuing the correspondence?"

"Who knows?" she said in a profound tone. "She is the only woman that
ever wrote to me. I returned her three letters to her with my last
answer, explaining humbly that I preferred her to burn them herself. And
I thought that would be the end of it. But an occasion may still arise."

"Oh, if an occasion arises," I said, trying to control my rage, "you may
be able to begin your letter by the words '_Chere Maman_.'"

The cigarette box, which she had taken up without removing her eyes from
me, flew out of her hand and opening in mid-air scattered cigarettes for
quite a surprising distance all over the room. I got up at once and
wandered off picking them up industriously. Dona Rita's voice behind me
said indifferently:

"Don't trouble, I will ring for Rose."

"No need," I growled, without turning my head, "I can find my hat in the
hall by myse