"Why so cruel ?" he murmured, in a tone meant for her alone, and with a look to match.

"You were not so hard when I spoke with you in the gallery, two evenings ago, Madame." "Was I not ?" she asked.

"Did I look like this?
And this ?" And, languishing, she looked at him very sweetly after two fashions.
"Something." "Oh, then I meant nothing!" she retorted with sudden vivacity.

And she made a face at him, laughing under his nose.

"I do that when I mean nothing, Monsieur! Do you see?
But you are Gascon, and given, I fear, to flatter yourself." Then he saw clearly that she played with him: and resentment, chagrin, pique got the better of his courtesy.
"I flatter myself ?" he cried, his voice choked with rage.