"You know how to heal when you wound," he answered gently.
"Is he not a Leonberg?" said Lady Esmondet, as the dog went to her side to be caressed.
"Yes, and they are the best dogs in existence; dear old Mars, it would be strange indeed were I not attached to him, he never tires; in all my wanderings is always faithful."
"And 'man is the god of the dog,' which a moment ago I did not remember; you will not have to remind us of the old adage, 'love me, love my dog,' for we shall love the dear old fellow for his own sake," said Vaura.
"Yes, indeed, Lionel," said Lady Esmondet; "you need have no fear of banishment on his account."
"Thank you," he said, receiving and giving to both a warm hand-clasp. "Depend upon it, if Mars has any battles to fight for you, he will not put to shame his name; and now we leave you to woo the god of slumber."
CHAPTER XVI.
LIFTING THE VAIL.
The following morn the sun arose and smiled his greeting on gay Paris—methinks Old Sol weeps, when clouds come between his beams and the gayest of cities. Lady Esmondet and Vaura enjoyed their drive through the beautiful boulevards out into the suburbs, and to one of the largest public conservatories; the gardens were a scene of enchanting loveliness, laid out in the perfection of artistic taste; the friends roamed whither their will led, revelling in the perfumed air and beauty of colouring.
"Here," said Vaura, "one could be content to sing, 'I'd be a butterfly,' all day long."