"Oh, she doesn't love him!" rejoined the duchess, "she doesn't love him! She prefers her honor, a mere empty word, to him."
"If some one were to say to you, madame," retorted Colombe, angered in spite of her sweet disposition, "if some one were to say to you, 'Renounce for his sake your titles and your grandeur; abandon the king for him,—not in secret, that would be too easy,—but publicly.' If some one were to say to you, 'Anne d'Heilly, Duchesse d'Etampes, leave your palace, your luxurious surroundings, and your courtiers for his humble artist's studio'?"
"I would refuse in his own interest," replied the duchess, as if it were impossible to say what was false beneath the profound, penetrating gaze of her rival.
"You would refuse?"
"Yes."
"Ah! she doesn't love him!" cried Colombe; "she prefers honors, mere chimeras, to him."
"But when I tell you that I wish to retain my position for his sake," returned the duchess, exasperated anew by this fresh triumph of her rival,—"when I tell you that I wish to retain my honors so that he may share them? All men care for them sooner or later."
"Yes," replied Colombe, smiling; "but Ascanio is not one of them."
"Hush!" cried Anne, stamping her foot in passion.
Thus had the cunning and powerful duchess signally failed to gain the upper hand over a mere girl, whom she expected to intimidate simply by raising her voice. To her questions, angry or satirical, Colombe had made answer with a modest tranquillity which disconcerted her. She realized that the blind impulsion of her hatred had led her astray, so she changed her tactics. To tell the truth, she had not reckoned upon the possession of so much beauty or so much wit by her rival, and, finding that she could not bend her, she determined to take her by surprise.