"I would but have thee do her justice, Helen—"
"Think you I am so unjust, my lord?"
"Not so indeed. But she is so young—so fair—"
"Aye, she is very fair, my lord—there be—others think the same."
"Helen?" said he, "O Helen!"
"And thou dost plead for her—and to me, my lord! And with her kisses yet burning thee!"
"She did but kiss my hand—"
"Thy hand, my lord! O aye, thy hand forsooth!"
"Aye, my hand, lady, and therewith named me 'Duke'!" quoth Beltane, beginning to frown. Whereat needs must the Duchess laugh, very soft and sweet yet with eyes aglow beneath her lashes.
"'Duke,' messire? She names thee so betimes, meseemeth. Thou art not
Duke yet, nor can'st thou ever be but of my favour!"