Don Rodriguez, hovering solicitously about his spouse, smiled deprecatingly. He found himself in constant need to temper her oddities by this fidgetty, excusing smile. "Let us talk in your own tongue, Chevalier. I speak it very indifferently, but it is a polite language." She spoke it very well. "My love, the Chevalier had hoped to find your poor brother. We have been speaking of his sad death." She answered without taking the trouble to look at him. "Why sad, señor? One must hope he has found repose. So you were acquainted with my brother, Chevalier?" "No madame, but I knew a friend of his once, and I had hoped to present myself to his notice upon that score." "You would not have found him at all entertaining," said Doña Beatrice. "It is far better to know me." Sir Nicholas bowed. "I am sure of it, madame," he said, and was inclined to think he spoke sooth. "I must have you come to my ball on Friday evening," she announced. "It will be very painstaking and very dull. You shall solace my boredom. I suppose you must meet my son." She sighed and addressed Don Rodriguez. "Señor, Don Diego is somewhere at hand. Pray send for him." "I have already had that pleasure, madame. I met your son upon the Mentidero yesterday." "Ah, then you will not want to see him again," she said, as though she perfectly understood. "You need not send, señor." Sir Nicholas bit his lip. "On the contrary, I shall be charmed, madame." Her eyelids lifted for a moment. He thought he had never seen eyes so curiously cold, so cynical, yet so good-humoured. "Señor, send for Don Diego," she sighed. In a minute or two Don Diego came in, and with him the scent of musk. He was very punctilious in his manner towards Sir Nicholas, and while the two men spoke together his mother lay back in her chair watching them with her omniscient smile. "You will see the Chevalier at your ball, my son," she said. "My dear Chevalier, how remiss I am! I did not tell you that it is in my son's honour. His anniversary. I forget which, but no doubt he will tell you." "It can be of no interest to the Chevalier, señora," said Don Diego, annoyed. "I shall hope to have the felicity of meeting your niece, madame," said Beauvallet. "Or perhaps she does not go into public yet?" Don Diego looked cross; Doña Beatrice continued to fan herself. "She will be present," she said placidly. It struck Beauvallet that both father and son looked sharply at her, but she gave no sign. He rose to take his leave, kissed her hand, and was ushered forth. When the door had closed behind him Don Diego gave a pettish shrug of the shoulder, and flung over to the window. "Why must you invite him for Friday?" he asked. "Are you so enamoured of him? He walks abroad as though he had bought Madrid." "I thought he might amuse me," his mother replied. "A very personable man. It is most entertaining to see you at such a disadvantage, my son."