"I was saving it for an occasion, your highness," he said, his steely eyes glittering. "The glad hour has come when I can part with it for a recompense far greater than the baron's gold."
"Oh, isn't it lucky you kept it?" she cried. Then she turned her eyes away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavoring to pierce through the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. Outside the window the steady tramp of the tall guard went on monotonously.
"The recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush and the unguarded thanks of a pretty woman. The candlestick is yours, Miss Calhoun,—if you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation."
Slowly Beverly Calhoun set the candlestick down upon the table her eyes meeting his with steady disdain.
"What a rare old jester you are, Count Marlanx," she said without a smile. "If I thought you were in earnest I should scream with laughter. May I suggest that we join the countess? We must hurry along, you know. She and I have promised to play tennis with the princess at three o'clock." The count's glare of disappointment lasted but a moment. The diplomacy of egotism came to his relief, and he held back the gift for another day, but not for another woman.
"It grieves me to have you hurry away. My afternoon is to be a dull one, unless you permit me to watch the tennis game," he said.
"I thought you were interested only in the game of war," she said pointedly.
"I stand in greater awe of a tennis ball than I do of a cannonball, if it is sent by such an arm as yours," and he not only laid his eyes but his hand upon her bare arm. She started as if something had stung her, and a cold shiver raced over her warm flesh. His eyes for the moment held her spellbound. He was drawing the hand to his lips when a shadow darkened the French window, and a saber rattled warningly.
Count Marlanx looked up instantly, a scowl on his face. Baldos stood at the window in an attitude of alert attention. Beverly drew her arm away spasmodically and took a step toward the window. The guard saw by her eyes that she was frightened, but, if his heart beat violently, his face was the picture of military stoniness.
"What are you doing there?" snarled the count.