“That’s a new kind of nonsense you are talking,” Rafael exclaimed.  “Just what do you mean?  I don’t think I understand, exactly.”

“Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it’s all like.  Love for love’s sake alone!  That may happen in the world where I come from.  There folks aren’t scandalized at things.  Virtue is broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too harshly.  But here!...  Here love is the straight and narrow path that leads to marriage.  Now let’s see how good a liar you are!  Would you be capable of saying that you would marry me?...”

She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as he started to speak.

“Exactly,” she went on.  “You wouldn’t, and you are right.  For that would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity.  I’m not one of the women who are made for such things.  Many men have proposed marriage to me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose.  More than once they’ve offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me back when I got bored and tried to fly away.  But imagine me married!  Could anything be more absurd?”

She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael deeply.  There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which reminded the young man of Mephisto’s mirth during his infernal serenade to Marguerite.

“Moreover,” continued Leonora, recovering her composure, “you don’t seem to realize just how I stand in this community.  Don’t imagine what’s said about me in town escapes me ...  I just have to notice the way the women look at me the few times I go in there.  And I know also what happened to you before you left for Madrid.  We find out everything here, Rafaelito.  The gossip of these people carries—­it reaches even this solitary spot.  I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I’ve even heard about the squabbles you’ve had at home over coming here.  Well, we must put a stop to all that!  I am going to ask you not to visit me any more.  I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will be to the advantage of us both.”

That was a painful thrust for Rafael.  So she knew!  But to escape from what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of independence.

“Don’t you believe such bosh!  It’s just election gossip spread by my enemies.  I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without asking mamma.”