He stooped and kissed her gently.
“Good-night, little one! If ever you show your twinkling feet at the Opera, you will be the ‘fashion’—and will you remember Paul then?”
“Always—always!” said Pequita tenderly; “Father and Lotys and I will always love you!”
Zouche gave a short laugh.
“Always love me! Me! Well!—what strange things children will say, not knowing in the least what they mean!”
He gave a vague salute to the entire company, and walked out of the tavern with drooping head. Others followed him,—every man in going, shook hands with Lotys and Sergius Thord,—the lamps were extinguished, and the landlord standing in the porch of his tavern watched them all file out, and bade them all a cordial farewell. Pequita’s home was with her father in the house where Sergius Thord dwelt, and Lotys kissing her tenderly good-night, left her to Thord’s care.
“And who will see you home, Lotys?” enquired Thord.
“May I for once have that honour?” asked Pasquin Leroy. His two companions stared in undisguised amazement, and there was a moment’s silence.
Then Lotys spoke.
“You may!” she said simply.