He gave her the Cardinal's snuff box, which, in spite of her
hands' preoccupation, she was able to accept.
"A liberty!" he thought, grinding his teeth. "Yes! No doubt
she would have wished me to leave it with the porter at the
lodge. No doubt she deems it an act of officiousness on my
part to have found it at all."
And his anger mounted.
"How very good of you," she said. "My uncle could not think
where he had mislaid it."
"I am very fortunate to be the means of restoring it," said he.
Then, after a second's suspension, as she said nothing (she
kept her eyes on the snuffbox, examining it as if it were quite
new to her), he lifted his hat, and bowed, preparatory to
retiring down the avenue.
"Oh, but my uncle will wish to thank you," she exclaimed,
looking up, with a kind of start. "Will you not come in? I--I
will see whether he is disengaged."
She made a tentative movement towards the door. She had thawed
perceptibly.
But even as she thawed, Peter, in his anger, froze and
stiffened. "I will see whether he is disengaged." The
expression grated. And perhaps, in effect, it was not a
particularly felicitous expression. But if the poor woman was
suffering from nervous apprehension--?
"I beg you on no account to disturb Cardinal Udeschini," he
returned loftily. "It is not a matter of the slightest
consequence."
And even as he stiffened, she unbent.
"But it is a matter of consequence to him, to us," she said,
faintly smiling. "We have hunted high and low for it. We
feared it was lost for good. It must have fallen from his
pocket when he was walking. He will wish to thank you."
"I am more than thanked already," said Peter. Alas (as
Monsieur de la Pallisse has sagely noted), when we aim to
appear dignified, how often do we just succeed in appearing
churlish.
And to put a seal upon this ridiculous encounter, to make it
irrevocable, he lifted his hat again, and turned away.
"Oh, very well," murmured the Duchessa, in a voice that did not
reach him. If it had reached him, perhaps he would have come
back, perhaps things might have happened. I think there was
regret in her voice, as well as despite. She stood for a
minute, as he tramped down the avenue, and looked after him,
with those unusually dark, grave eyes. At last, making a
little gesture--as of regret? despite? impatience?--she went
into the house.