In the first place, Rose deserved a very severe punishment, for having dared to refuse the love of a Spanish nobleman; and what greater punishment could he inflict than withdrawing the honor of his attentions, and the sunshine of his smiles?
There was conceit enough in that notion, but there was cunning too; for none knew better than the Spaniard, that women, like the world, are pretty sure to value a man (especially if there be any real worth in him) at his own price; and that the more he demands for himself, the more they will give for him.
And now he would put a high price on himself, and pique her pride, as she was too much accustomed to worship, to be won by flattering it.

He might have done that by paying attention to some one else: but he was too wise to employ so coarse a method, which might raise indignation, or disgust, or despair in Rose's heart, but would have never brought her to his feet--as it will never bring any woman worth bringing.

So he quietly and unobtrusively showed her that he could do without her; and she, poor fool, as she was meant to do, began forthwith to ask herself--why?
What was the hidden treasure, what was the reserve force, which made him independent of her, while she could not say that she was independent of him?
Had he a secret?
how pleasant to know it! Some huge ambition?
how pleasant to share in it! Some mysterious knowledge?
how pleasant to learn it! Some capacity of love beyond the common?
how delicious to have it all for her own! He must be greater, wiser, richer-hearted than she was, as well as better-born.

Ah, if his wealth would but supply her poverty! And so, step by step, she was being led to sue in forma pauperis to the very man whom she had spurned when he sued in like form to her.

That temptation of having some mysterious private treasure, of being the priestess of some hidden sanctuary, and being able to thank Heaven that she was not as other women are, was becoming fast too much for Rose, as it is too much for most.