“You have had enough good fortune for one day, I consider,” she said.
“Ah, then, can I hope?”
“That’s a thing forbidden to no one,” she replied, looking at him through her eyelashes.
They had sat long over the meal. She expressed a desire for the outer air, and they strolled again together through the wonderful gardens. Behind them rose the great white palace of the casino, its marble balustrades and stairs and cupolas gleaming amidst the gorgeous vegetation. In front, the cobalt-blue Mediterranean meeting afar off the violet sky. On the left swept the fair Italian coast. On the right rose the black crag of Monaco, with its palace guarding the russet roofs of the little old town. Beneath them, terrace after terrace of greensward bedded with riotous profusion of flowers, broken by white parapets and flights of stairs. The scent of exotic flowers hung sensuously on the warm air.
“It is intoxicating like wine, or your beauty,” said Boissy.
Minna shrugged her shoulders and glanced idly round.
“It’s a pretty place. But one gets tired of it, as of most things. What’s the time?”
“Half-past two,” he replied, consulting his watch.
Mrs. Delamere would be there by half-past four. Then she could dismiss Boissy, of whom she was growing weary.
“Shall we sit down? One talks better.”