“I have done business sometimes, madame, in Paris,” he said softly, “with persons of your sex who are not considered, there, pure enough to sit beside you in the tribune at Chantilly, or at the Institute, or at the Chambers. But amongst those _horizontales_ I never knew one quite of your force. _Je vous en fais mes compliments._” Angry blood flew into the fair cheeks of his debtor; her blue eyes flashed like stormy summer skies; her hand clenched till her rings cut into the skin. “You dare to insult me because my lord is dead!” Cocky in memory really appeared to her, at this moment, as a very tower of strength. Beaumont made a little gesture of smiling protestation. “Oh, madame, if your lord were living he would not make much difference to me in this matter, or to any action of your creditors. But he would certainly have apprehended the situation more quickly than you do.” “You are an insolent!” She would have reached to touch the button of the electric bell, but Beaumont interposed. “Do not make a scandal, duchesse; I shall not, if you do not press me too far. I am not your enemy. I never expose women if I can help it. Nature made them dishonest; jewels and money are to them what cherries and apples are to schoolboys. That is why they are so much better shut up in harems. However, I came for strict business; let us limit ourselves to it. You say I cannot go into a tribunal. You have relied upon that fact. But it is a rotten staff to lean on; it is not a fact. I both can and will go into any number of tribunals about this matter. They may nonsuit me. I may, perhaps, lose both the diamond and the money; but I have plenty of money and no children, and it will amuse me, madame, to see you cross-examined. It will not amuse you.” She stared fixedly at the windows of the opposite house, and observed, as people do observe extraneous matters in moments of horrible agitation, that the lace curtains to them were very soiled. Her heart heaved under the crape _fichû_ of her bodice, and he saw that it was only by great effort that she controlled herself from some bodily assault upon him. “What a godsend for the illustrated press such a trial would be!” he continued, in quiet, amused tones. “But it would be disagreeable to you, because those papers disfigure so the pretty people whom they pretend to represent.” “You would never dare to go to law!” she interrupted in a hoarse, fierce voice. “You would not dare! You would be punished yourself!” “I should be punished, possibly, by losing the money. They would nonsuit me, but I think they would make you pay my costs. But as I have said, I do not mind losing the money; I have a good deal and no children, and I am old----” “Well, then, why make this hideous fuss?” Beaumont smiled.