"The walk was a delight to me and its end a sorrow," he answered.
"And you obeyed me?"
"To the letter." It is true, he thought, we are a generation of liars, but how may one help it? Then, quickly, a way seemed to suggest itself, and he added: "Madame, forgive me. I do now remember we had a word or two about love; but, you see, I was telling the legend of this coin. It has the power to show one if he be loved."
"By tossing?"
"By tossing. Head, yes; the reverse, no."
"Let me try." She flung it to the oaken beams and it fell on the great rug beside her.
"Madame, the hand is up," said Vergilius. "I fear it is not infallible."
"Let me see," she answered, stooping gravely to survey the coin. Something passed between her and her pleasure, and for one second a shadow wavered across her face.
"It is Death's hand, of course," she remarked, sadly. "Love is for the young and death is for the old."
"Old, madame! Why, your cheeks have roses in them."