The next morning, to his surprise, the Duchess sent one of her gentlemen
to ask an audience. Odo at once replied that he would wait on her
Highness; and a few moments later he was ushered into his wife's closet.
She had just left her toilet, and was still in the morning negligee worn
during that prolonged and public ceremonial. Freshly perfumed and
powdered, her eyes bright, her lips set in a nervous smile, she
curiously recalled the arrogant child who had snatched her spaniel away
from him years ago in that same room. And was she not that child, after
all? Had she ever grown beyond the imperious instincts of her youth? It
seemed to him now that he had judged her harshly in the first months of
their marriage. He had felt a momentary impatience when he had tried to
force her roving impulses into the line of his own endeavour: it was
easier to view her leniently now that she had almost passed out of his
life.
He wondered why she had sent for him. Some dispute with her household,
doubtless; a quarrel with a servant, even--or perhaps some sordid
difficulty with her creditors. But she began in a new key.
"Your Highness," she said, "is not given to taking my advice."
Odo looked at her in surprise. "The opportunity is not often accorded
me," he replied with a smile.
Maria Clementina made an impatient gesture; then her face softened.
Contradictory emotions flitted over it like the reflections cast by a
hurrying sky. She came close to him and then drew away and seated
herself in the high-backed chair where she had throned when he first saw
her.
Pages:
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504