Now when at last Barnabas looked round, the Duchess had her back to him, nor did she turn even when she spoke.
"Then you are going back—to your father?"
"Yes, madam."
"To-day?"
"Yes, madam."
"Then—good-by, Barnabas! And remember that even roses, like all things else, have a habit of fading, sooner or later." And thus, without even glancing at him, the Duchess went out of the room and closed the door softly behind her.
Then Barnabas sank into a chair, like one that is very tired, and sat there lost in frowning thought, and with one hand clasped down upon his breast where hidden away in a clumsily contrived hiding-place a certain rose, even at that moment, was fading away. And in a while being summoned by Peterby, he sighed and, rising, went down to his solitary breakfast.
CHAPTER LXXV
WHICH TELLS WHY BARNABAS FORGOT HIS BREAKFAST
It was a slender little shoe, and solitary, for fellow it had none, and it lay exactly in the middle of the window-seat; moreover, to the casual observer, it was quite an ordinary little shoe, ordinary, be it understood, in all but its size.