"A condition? What's the condition?"
"No—you must promise first to agree to it," she said.
"A promise in the dark?" he objected.
"Oh, if you can't trust me!" she cried, with a little shrug.
"There's mischief in your eye," said he. "The man deserves what he gets, who makes promises in the dark."
"Then make the promise—and see whether you get what you deserve," she laughed.
"Mercy forbid that any man should get what he deserves," said he. "I am a suppliant for grace, not justice."
Susanna laughed again. She took her rose from her belt, and brushed her face with it, touched it with her lips.
"Do you care for roses?" she asked, with a glance of intellectual curiosity, as one who spoke solely for the purpose of acquiring knowledge.
"I should care for that rose," said he, vehemently.