“They are going to smoke,” said Theodora. “Is it your habit?”
“Not yet.”
“I do not dislike it in the air and at a distance; but I banish them the terrace. I think smoking must be a great consolation to a soldier;” and, as she spoke, she moved, and, without formally inviting him, he found himself walking by her side.
Rather abruptly he said, “You wore last night at the opera the same ornament as on the first time I had the pleasure meeting you.”
She looked at him with a smile, and a little surprised. “My solitary trinket; I fear you will never see any other.”
“But you do not despise trinkets?” said Lothair.
“Oh no; they are very well. Once I was decked with jewels and ropes of pearls, like Titian’s Queen of Cyprus. I sometimes regret my pearls. There is a reserve about pearls which I like—something soft and dim. But they are all gone, and I ought not to regret them, for they went in a good cause. I kept the star, because it was given to me by a hero; and once we flattered ourselves it was a symbol.”
“I wish I were a hero!” said Lothair.
“You may yet prove one.”
“And if I do, may I give you a star?”