"She is a woman, and rich; too rich, if one can say so. Of course she has her caprices———"
Della Rocca shrugged his shoulders.
"She is very handsome. But she does not interest me."
The Duc smiled, and glanced at him.
"Then you probably interested her. It is much better you should not be interested. Men who are interested may blunder."
"She is vain—she is selfish—she is arrogant," said Della Rocca, with great decision.
"Oh ho!—all that you find out already? You did not amuse her long?———"
"C'est une femme exagérée en tout," pursued Della Rocca, disregarding.
"No! Exaggeration is vulgar—is bad taste. Her taste is excellent—unexceptionable———"
"Exagérée en tout!" repeated Della Rocca, with much emphasis. "Dress—jewels—habits—temper—everything. She had three hundred pots of flowers in her room!"
"Flower-pots, pooh!———that is English. It is very odd," pursued the Duc pensively, "but they really do like the smell of flowers."
