The young girl looked up and smiled. “If not too great a one,” she said.
“To grant it,” and the young man bowed low, “will rob you of but one of those beautiful flowers. I should like to take it with me as a souvenir of this unexpected but very pleasant meeting.”
“I surely shall not feel the loss of one little flower,” said she, as she took a white rose from the basket, “and I am pleased to give it to you if it will afford you as much pleasure as you say it will.”
He took the flower.
“Pardon, monsieur, but I must return to the house, or my flowers will wilt in the hot sun despite the cool bath which I have given them.”
Lieutenant Duquesne stepped to one side, thinking that she would go by way of the path and would have to pass him, but she turned in an opposite direction and quickly disappeared from sight. The Lieutenant left the path and, reaching the brook, stood upon the same place where she had knelt. As he did so, he saw her slight form disappear beneath a vine-covered arbour a short distance away. A thought came into his mind and, unconsciously, found expression in words:
“She is beautiful,” and he started at the sound of his own voice; “she is the most beautiful girl I ever saw. To see her is to love her!”
He retraced his steps and entered the path again when, to his surprise, he came face to face with a young man of about his own age, dressed in the height of Parisian fashion, who stood regarding him with an angry frown upon his face.
It was the young Count Napier Mont d’Oro.