The impression that she had behaved courageously in peril was
rapidly increased as the story was repeated by one and another, and
she received several congratulatory visits in the afternoon from
her lady acquaintances; and when she came down to supper she found
that she was even a greater heroine than Miss Burton had been. In
answer to many sympathetic inquiries, she said that she "felt as
well as ever," and she tried to prove it by her gayety and careful
toilet.

But she was decidedly ill at ease. Her old self-complacency was
ebbing away faster than ever. From the time that it had first been
disturbed by the artist's frown in the concert garden, she had been
conscious of a secret and growing self-dissatisfaction.

It seemed to be this stranger's mission to break the spell vanity
and flattery had woven about her. The congratulations she was now
receiving were secured by a fraudulent impression, if not by actual
falsehood, and she permitted this impression to remain and grow.
The one, who above all others she most feared and disliked, knew
this. In smilingly accepting the compliments showered upon her
from all sides she felt that she must appear to him as if receiving
stolen goods, and she believed that in his heart he despised her
more thoroughly than ever.

To the degree that he caused her disquietude and secret humiliation,
her desire to retaliate increased, and she resolved, before the
day closed, to use her beauty as a weapon to inflict upon him the
severest wound possible. If it were within the power of her art
she would bring him to her feet and keep him there until she could,
in the most decided and public manner, spurn his abject homage.