Frothingham found encouragement in her willingness to discuss her fiancé with him--it showed plainly how foreign she felt to Rontivogli, how friendly to him. A few afternoons later--it was the day after the dinner at which her engagement was formally announced--she went with Frothingham to call on “Madame Almansa” in her surroundings of Spartan simplicity. They found Ysobel and Boughton there also, and when Ysobel took Frothingham and Boughton into the small library adjoining the smaller drawing room to look at some old prints “Sue” had brought with her from Spain, Elsie talked with “Sue” of the engagement.
Madame Almansa was chary of congratulations, full of cautionings and doubts. “I don’t wish to cast a shadow on your happiness, dear--for you _are_ happy, aren’t you?”
“Indeed I am,” replied Elsie convincingly--Rontivogli was an ideal lover; he could even sing his mad passion in a voice that was well-trained and thrilling.
“But--you know my sad experience.” Madame Almansa sighed like Medea thinking on the treachery of Jason. Her glance fell upon the engagement ring. She took Elsie’s hand. “How beautiful!” she exclaimed. “I love emeralds and that is a magnificent one. And only a tiny flaw.”
Elsie coloured with annoyance. “I think you are mistaken,” she said. “It’s a perfect stone.”
“Certainly it is perfect, dear,” replied Madame Almansa in her superior, informative tone. “Perfect for an emerald. But, you know, there are no emeralds of size anywhere in the world that haven’t flaws. At least, I never heard of one. Emeralds are valuable in spite of their flaws.”
Elsie coloured again, this time with annoyance at having exposed her ignorance.
“A superb setting,” continued Madame Almansa. “It must be very, very old. I love that kind of setting--beautifully engraved, dull gold. The only objection is that it’s the best kind for deceiving one as to genuineness, isn’t it? One could not tell whether that stone was genuine or imitation. You know, they make such wonderful imitations. When I was going out in the world I had all my best jewels reproduced in imitation stuff, and usually I wore the imitation. One felt so much safer.”
Elsie drew her hand away, smiling sweetly. She was inwardly raging--“The cat!” she said to herself. “Clawing me viciously, and purring as if she hadn’t a claw.”