"Do you need my approbation?" he asked, in surprise. "For politeness' sake alone you should be civil to the young man."
"But it was you who told me to be so," she stammered meekly.
"I merely told you what a young lady's duty is--that's all."
She bent her head contritely. She had made a great effort to please Cesare Dias, and this was all the recognition she got. However, she could not feel towards him the least particle of anger; and the result was that her dislike of Luigi Caracciolo took a giant's stride.
Luigi Caracciolo's name was in everybody's mouth; everybody talked about him to her--Laura, Stella Martini, the Marchesa Scibilla. She shrugged her shoulders, without answering. Her silence seemed like a consent; but it is easy to guess that it was really only a means of concealing her unpleasant thoughts.
When, however, it was her guardian who mentioned Caracciolo, vaunting not only his charm, but also the seriousness of his character, she became excessively nervous. She looked at him in surprise, wondering that he could speak thus of such a disagreeable and vulgar person, and smiling ironically.
One day, overcome by impatience, she asked: "But do you really take him so seriously?"
"I take every man seriously, who deserves it; and he does, I assure you."
"I don't want to contradict you," she said, softly; "but that is not my opinion."
"Have you really an opinion on the subject?" he responded, with a slight inflexion of contempt.
"The opinions of young girls don't count, my dear. You are very intelligent; there's no doubt of that. But you know absolutely nothing."
"But, after all," she exclaimed, "do you really wish to persuade me that Caracciolo is a clever man?"
"Certainly," he repeated for the third time.
"Well, well," she said, disconcerted. "I find him arid in mind, hard of heart, and often absurd in his manners. No one will ever convince me of the contrary. He's a doll, not a man. Such a creature a man! It doesn't require much knowledge to see through _him_!"
"It is quite unnecessary to discuss it, my dear," said Cesare Dias, icily. "We won't discuss it farther. I'm not anxious to convince you, and it doesn't matter. Think what you like of anybody. It's not my affair to correct your fancies. I have unlimited indulgence still at your disposal for your extravagances; but there's one thing I can't tolerate--ingratitude. Do you understand--I hate ingratitude?"