“Yes;—­a quick friendship,” said Madame Goesler.  Then there was a pause for some moments which Madame Goesler was determined that she would not break.  It was clear to her now on what ground Lady Glencora had come to her, and she was fully minded that if she could bear the full light of the god himself in all his glory, she would not allow herself to be scorched by any reflected heat coming from the god’s niece.  She thought she could endure anything that Lady Glencora might say; but she would wait and hear what might be said.

“I think, Madame Goesler, that I had better hurry on to my subject at once,” said Lady Glencora, almost hesitating as she spoke, and feeling that the colour was rushing up to her cheeks and covering her brow.  “Of course what I have to say will be disagreeable.  Of course I shall offend you.  And yet I do not mean it.”

“I shall be offended at nothing, Lady Glencora, unless I think that you mean to offend me.”

“I protest that I do not.  You have seen my little boy.”

“Yes, indeed.  The sweetest child!  God never gave me anything half so precious as that.”

“He is the Duke’s heir.”

“So I understand.”

“For myself, by my honour as a woman, I care nothing.  I am rich and have all that the world can give me.  For my husband, in this matter, I care nothing.  His career he will make for himself, and it will depend on no title.”

“Why all this to me, Lady Glencora?  What have I to do with your husband’s titles?”

“Much;—­if it be true that there is an idea of marriage between you and the Duke of Omnium.”

“Psha!” said Madame Goesler, with all the scorn of which she was mistress.

“It is untrue, then?” asked Lady Glencora.

“No;—­it is not untrue.  There is an idea of such a marriage.”

“And you are engaged to him?”

“No;—­I am not engaged to him.”

“Has he asked you?”

“Lady Glencora, I really must say that such a cross-questioning from one lady to another is very unusual.  I have promised not to be offended, unless I thought that you wished to offend me.  But do not drive me too far.”

“Madame Goesler, if you will tell me that I am mistaken, I will beg your pardon, and offer to you the most sincere friendship which one woman can give another.”

“Lady Glencora, I can tell you nothing of the kind.”

“Then it is to be so!  And have you thought what you would gain?”

“I have thought much of what I should gain:—­and something also of what I should lose.”

“You have money.”

“Yes, indeed; plenty,—­for wants so moderate as mine.”

“And position.”

“Well, yes; a sort of position.  Not such as yours, Lady Glencora.  That, if it be not born to a woman, can only come to her from a husband.  She cannot win it for herself.”

“You are free as air, going where you like, and doing what you like.”