"_Il lui a fait une scene_--like this, before strangers. And for
what? You would never guess. For some eggs.... Oh!"
I was astonished. "Eggs, did you say?"
"For Madame de S--. That lady observes a special diet, or something
of the sort. It seems she complained the day before to Peter Ivanovitch
that the eggs were not rightly prepared. Peter Ivanovitch suddenly
remembered this against the poor woman, and flew out at her. It was most
astonishing. I stood as if rooted."
"Do you mean to say that the great feminist allowed himself to be
abusive to a woman?" I asked.
"Oh, not that! It was something you have no conception of. It was an
odious performance. Imagine, he raised his hat to begin with. He made
his voice soft and deprecatory. 'Ah! you are not kind to us--you will
not deign to remember....' This sort of phrases, that sort of tone.
The poor creature was terribly upset. Her eyes ran full of tears.
She did not know where to look. I shouldn't wonder if she would have
preferred abuse, or even a blow."
I did not remark that very possibly she was familiar with both on
occasions when no one was by. Miss Haldin walked by my side, her head up
in scornful and angry silence.
"Great men have their surprising peculiarities," I observed inanely.
"Exactly like men who are not great.
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