Sabine was startled--what was agitating her friend?
"But your troubles are over, Morri, darling--your wings are strong and free!"
"I said there was a shot in one of them."
Sabine came and sat upon a stool beside her, and took and caressed her hand.
"Something has hurt you, dearest," she cooed, rubbing Moravia's arm with her velvet cheek. "What is it?"
"No, I am not hurt--I am only cynical. I despise our sex--most of us are just primitive savages underneath at one time of our lives or another--we adore the strong man who captures us in spite of all our struggles!"
"It is perfectly true! we all pass through it. In the beginning, when Girolamo devoured me with kisses and raged with jealousy, and one day almost beat me, I absolutely worshipped him; it was when he became polite--and then yawned that my misery began. You will go through it, Sabine, if you have not already done so. It seems we suffer all the time, because when that is over then we learn to appreciate gentleness and chivalry--and probably by then it is out of our reach."
"I don't believe anything is out of our reach if we want it enough," and Sabine closed her firm mouth.
"Then I wonder what you want, Sabine--because I know you do not really want Lord Fordyce--he represents chivalry--and I don't believe you are at that stage yet, dearest."
"The one when you want a master--you have mastered everything yourself up to now--but the moment will come to you--and then you will be fortunate, perhaps, if fate keeps the man away!"
Sabine's violet eyes grew black as night--and her little nostrils quivered.
"I know nothing of passions, Moravia," she cried, and threw out her arms. "I have only dreamed of them--imagined them. I am afraid of them--afraid to feel too much. Henry will be a haven of rest--the moment--can never come to me."
"Then let us dress, darling, and go down and outshine all these dear, dowdy Englishwomen; and while you are sipping courtesy and gentleness with Lord Fordyce, I shall try to quaff gloriously attractive, aboriginal force with Mr. Arranstoun--but it would have been more suitable to our characters could we have changed partners. Now, run along!"
Rose Forster had felt she must not lure Mr. Arranstoun over to Ebbsworth on false pretences; he was a very much sought after young man, and since his return from the wilds had been very difficult to secure, and therefore it was her duty to give him one of her beautiful Americans at dinner. The Princess was obviously the destiny of her husband with her brother Henry upon the other side, so Michael must take in Mrs. Howard. Mr. Arranstoun was one of the last two guests to assemble in the great drawing-room where the party were collected, and did not hear of his good fortune until one minute before dinner was announced.