I have practised no deception. If there are things about
me that I have not told you, it is that I did not account them of
much importance. But I have never deceived you by pretending to be
other than I am. I am neither more nor less than I have
represented myself."
This persistence began to annoy her, and the annoyance showed on her
winsome face, coloured her voice.
"Ha! And that fine lady of the nobility with whom you are so
intimate, who carried you off in her cabriolet with so little
ceremony towards myself? What is she to you?"
"A sort of sister," said he.
"A sort of sister!" She was indignant. "Harlequin foretold that
you would say so; but he was amusing himself. It was not very
funny. It is less funny still from you. She has a name, I suppose,
this sort of sister?"
"Certainly she has a name. She is Mlle. Aline de Kercadiou, the
niece of Quintin de Kercadiou, Lord of Gavrillac."
"Oho! That's a sufficiently fine name for your sort of sister.
What sort of sister, my friend?"
For the first time in their relationship he observed and deplored
the taint of vulgarity, of shrewishness, in her manner.
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