A little more time passed, and the American lady and her companion left the balcony, passed through the central hall, and reached the grand entrance of the Kursaal. A close carriage was in waiting, into which the gentleman handed her.
"Where is the flower you wore in your hair to-night?" he said, as he lingered, holding the carriage door in his hand; "have you taken it out? Are you going to give it to me?" Exciting boldness was in his voice, and his keen dark eyes were aflame.
"Impertinent! I lost it; it fell over the balcony while you were talking--talking nonsense, I fancy."
"I will find it when you are gone. I may--No, I will keep it."
"Some one has been too quick for you," she said, with a mischievous laugh. "I saw some one pick it up and walk off with it, very quickly too."
"What? and you--"
"Don't be foolish," she interrupted him; "shut the door, please, I'm cold. I want to pull the glass up--I want to get home. There, good-night. Pooh, are you a booby also? It was only a woman!"
A brilliant light was given by the lamps in the portico, and it shone on her face as she leaned a moment from the carriage window and looked full at him, a marvellous smile on her curved lips and in her black eyes. Then the carriage was gone, and he was standing like a man in a dream.
"Has Mrs. Routh come in?" George had asked, anxiously, of the English servant at Routh's lodgings, half an hour before.
"Yes, sir; but she has gone to her room, and she told me to give you this."