Winterset.

"'Tis already the daylight," he replied, pointing to the east.
"Monsieur, was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the aunt
of Lady Mary? Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty. 'Tis strange
you did not appear more happy."

"The rose is of an unlucky color, I think," observed the Duke.

"The color of a blush, my brother."

"Unlucky, I still maintain," said the other calmly.

"The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha!" cried the young man.
"What price would be too high? A rose is a rose! A good-night, my
brother, a good-night. I wish you dreams of roses, red roses, only
beautiful red, red roses!"

"Stay! Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they shouted
for her? And how are you higher than they, when she knows? As high as
yonder horse-boy!"

"Red roses, my brother, only roses. I wish you dreams of red, red
roses!"


Chapter Three


It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de Chateaurien