Angela knew something of the scheme, and that there was to be another assembly at Millbank; but her sister had seemed disinclined to talk of the plan in her presence—a curious reticence in one whose sentiments and caprices were usually given to the world at large with perfect freedom. For once in her life Hyacinth had a secret air, and checked herself suddenly in the midst of her light babble at a look from De Malfort, who had urged her to keep her sister out of their midnight party. “I pledge my honour that there shall be nothing to offend,” he told her, “but I hope to have the wittiest coxcombs in London, and we want no prudes to strangle every jest with a long-drawn lip and an alarmed eye. Your sister has a pale, fragile prettiness which pleases an eye satiated with the exuberant charms of your Rubens and Titian women; but she is not handsome enough to give herself airs; and she is a little inclined that way. By the faith of a gentleman, I have suffered scowls from her that I would scarce have endured from Barbara!” “Barbara! You are vastly free with her ladyship’s name.” “Not freer than she has ever been with her friendship.” “Henri, if I thought——” “What, dearest?” “That you had ever cared for that—wanton——” “Could you think it, when you know my life in England has been one long tragedy of loving in vain—of sighing only to be denied—of secret tears—and public submission.” “Do not talk so,” she exclaimed, starting up from her low tabouret, and moving hastily to the open window, to fresh air and sunshine, rippling river and blue sky, escaping from an atmosphere that had become feverish. “De Malfort, you know I must not listen to foolish raptures.” “I know you have been refusing to hear for the last two years.” They were on the terrace now, she leaning on the broad marble balustrade, he standing beside her, and all the traffic of London moving with the tide below them. “To return to our party,” she said, in a lighter tone, for that spurt of jealousy had betrayed her into seriousness. “It will be very awkward not to invite my sister to go with me.” “If you did she would refuse, belike, for she is under Fareham’s thumb; and he disapproves of everything human.” “Under Fareham’s thumb! What nonsense! Indeed I must invite her. She would think it so strange to be omitted.” “Not if you manage things cleverly. The party is to be a surprise. You can tell her next morning you knew nothing about it beforehand.” “But she will hear me order the barge—or will see me start.” “There will be no barge. I shall carry you to Millbank in my coach, after your evening’s entertainment, wherever that may be.” “I had better take my own carriage at least, or my chair.”