Meanwhile, that Cousin was seated within a few feet of them, at their
backs, and discovered them when Margaret turned round and screamed
at the boar. But he forbore to speak to them, for municipal reasons.
Margaret was very plainly dressed, and Peter inclined to threadbare. So
the alderman said to himself:

"'Twill be time to make up to them when the sun sets and the company
disperses then I will take my poor relations to my house, and none will
be the wiser."

Half the courses were lost on Gerard and Margaret. They were no great
eaters, and just now were feeding on sweet thoughts that have ever been
unfavourable to appetite. But there is a delicate kind of sensuality,
to whose influence these two were perhaps more sensitive than any other
pair in that assembly--the delights of colour, music, and perfume, all
of which blended so fascinatingly here.

Margaret leaned back and half closed her eyes, and murmured to Gerard:
"What a lovely scene! the warm sun, the green shade, the rich dresses,
the bright music of the lutes and the cool music of the fountain, and
all faces so happy and gay! and then, it is to you we owe it."

Gerard was silent all but his eyes; observing which--

"Now, speak not to me," said Margaret languidly; "let me listen to the
fountain: what are you a competitor for?"

He told her.

"Very well! You will gain one prize, at least."