“He will be in Paris while you are away, and may make his hay in your absence.”
Gaston’s face was flooded with laughter and color as he replied:
“Well—under the rose, remember—Mademoiselle Capello will not be in Paris long. She confided to me that her aunt was setting out upon her travels shortly, meaning to go as far north as Russia. Then, on their return, they will stop in Brabant, probably until mademoiselle attains her majority. It will go hard with me if I am not at my own house for a little while at least, while Mademoiselle Capello is my neighbor. And Babache!” he rode closer and whispered in my ear: “She told me last night she would be watching on a certain balcony when we passed, and I asked her what color of gown she would wear, because I should wear a flower of that color, and she said crimson, and here I have a crimson rose in my helmet.”
His boyish eyes were radiant with joy and triumph. His was a spirit daring in love as in war, and surely Francezka Capello had the spirit of ten good men in her young soul. I began to wonder what two such eaglets would contrive between them.
CHAPTER VII
AN UGLY DUCHESS
The town of Mitau is an ugly place, built near a dull and sluggish river, rudely spanned by a bridge of boats at the market-place. The palace, however, is a fine building, and there dwelt the ugly Duchess Anna Iwanowna—bad luck forever to her!—and there could have dwelt Count Saxe if he would but have obliged the duchess by marrying her. But he could not swallow the pill.