In about three-quarters of an hour the two returned to Tralee, and in
front of the house the final bargaining took place. There was a
difference of five hundred dollars between them, and the old man fought
stubbornly for it; and though Orlando giggled, it was clear he was no
fool at a bargain, and that he had many resources. At last he threw doubt
upon the pedigree of a bull. With a snarl Mazarine strode into the house.
He had that pedigree, and it was indisputable. He would show the young
swaggerer that he could not be caught anywhere in this game.
As Joel Mazarine entered the doorway of the house Orlando giggled again,
because he had two or three other useful traps ready, and this was really
like baiting a bull. Every thrust made this bull more angry; and Orlando
knew that if he became angry enough he could bring things to a head with
a device by which the old man would be forced to yield; for he did not
want to buy, as much as Mazarine wished to sell.
The device, however, was never used, and Orlando ceased giggling
suddenly, for chancing to glance up he saw a face at a window, pale,
exquisite, delicate, with eyes that stared and stared at him as though he
were a creature from some other world.
Such a look he had never seen in anybody's eyes; such a look Louise
Mazarine had never given in her life before. Something had drawn her out
of her bed in spite of herself--a voice which was not that of old Joel
Mazarine, but a new, fresh, vibrant voice which broke into little spells
of inconsequent laughter.
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