It was impossible to get the bearing of that utterance from that girl who, as Dona Rita herself had told me, was the most taciturn of human beings; and yet of all human beings the one nearest to herself. I seized her head in my hands and turning up her face I looked straight down into her black eyes which should have been lustrous. Like a piece of glass breathed upon they reflected no light, revealed no depths, and under my ardent gaze remained tarnished, misty, unconscious.
"Will Monsieur kindly let me go. Monsieur shouldn't play the child, either." (I let her go.) "Madame could have the world at her feet. Indeed she has it there only she doesn't care for it."
How talkative she was, this maid with unsealed lips! For some reason or other this last statement of hers brought me immense comfort.
"Yes?" I whispered breathlessly.
"Yes! But in that case what's the use of living in fear and torment?" she went on, revealing a little more of herself to my astonishment. She opened the door for me and added:
"Those that don't care to stoop ought at least make themselves happy."
I turned in the very doorway: "There is something which prevents that?" I suggested.
"To be sure there is. Bonjour, Monsieur."
