"Very dramatic, sir! Though, indeed, you missed an opportunity,
and--gracious heaven, how he frowns!" A woman's voice, sharp,
high-pitched, imperious.
Barnabas started, and glancing up, beheld an ancient lady, very
small and very upright; her cheeks were suspiciously pink, her curls
suspiciously dark and luxuriant, but her eyes were wonderfully young
and handsome; one slender mittened hand rested upon the ivory head
of a stick, and in the other she carried a small fan.
"Now, he stares!" she exclaimed, as she met his look. "Lud, how he
stares! As if I were a ghost, or a goblin, instead of only an old
woman with raddled cheeks and a wig. Oh, yes! I wear a wig, sir, and
very hideous I look without it! But even I was young once upon a
time--many, many years ago, and quite as beautiful as She, indeed,
rather more so, I think,--and I should have treated you exactly as
She did--only more so,--I mean Cleone. Your blonde women are either
too cold or overpassionate,--I know, for my hair was as yellow as
Cleone's, hundreds of years ago, and I think, more abundant. To-day,
being only a dyed brunette, I am neither too cold nor over-passionate,
and I tell you, sir, you deserved it, every word."
Here Barnabas rose, and, finding nothing to say, bowed.
"But," continued the ancient lady, sweeping him with a quick,
approving gaze, "I like your face, and y-e-s, you have a very good
leg. You also possess a tongue, perhaps, and can speak?"
"Given the occasion, madam," said Barnabas, smiling.
"Ha, sir! do I talk so much then? Well, perhaps I do, for when a
woman ceases to talk she's dead, and I'm very much alive indeed. So
you may give me your arm, sir, and listen to me, and drop an
occasional remark while I take breath,--your arm, sir!" And here the
small, ancient lady held out a small, imperious hand, while her
handsome young eyes smiled up into his.
"Madam, you honor me!"
"But I am only an old woman,--with a wig!"
"Age is always honorable, madam."
"Now that is very prettily said, indeed you improve, sir. Do you
know who I am?"
"No, madam; but I can guess."
"Ah, well,--you shall talk to me. Now, sir,--begin. Talk to me of
Cleone."
"Madam--I had rather not."
"Eh, sir,--you won't?"
"No, madam."
"Why, then, I will!" Here the ancient lady glanced up at Barnabas
with a malicious little smile. "Let me see, now--what were her words?
'Spy,' I think. Ah, yes--'a creeping spy,' 'a fool' and 'a coward.'
Really, I don't think I could have bettered that--even in my best
days,--especially the 'creeping spy.'"
"Madam," said Barnabas in frowning surprise, "you were listening?"