She reposed as quietly, she held the screen as composedly, as ever.
The test had been tried, and had utterly failed.
There was another silence. Lady Montbarry considered with herself.
The smile that came slowly and went away suddenly--the smile
at once so sad and so cruel--showed itself on her thin lips.
She lifted her screen, and pointed with it to a seat at the
farther end of the room. 'Be so good as to take that chair,'
she said.
Helpless under her first bewildering sense of failure--not knowing
what to say or what to do next--Mrs. Ferrari mechanically obeyed.
Lady Montbarry, rising on the sofa for the first time, watched her
with undisguised scrutiny as she crossed the room--then sank back
into a reclining position once more. 'No,' she said to herself,
'the woman walks steadily; she is not intoxicated--the only other
possibility is that she may be mad.'
She had spoken loud enough to be heard. Stung by the insult,
Mrs. Ferrari instantly answered her: 'I am no more drunk or mad
than you are!'
'No?' said Lady Montbarry. 'Then you are only insolent?
The ignorant English mind (I have observed) is apt to be insolent in
the exercise of unrestrained English liberty.
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