"I told you a rose had a short life," was the answer.

"Oh, those roses! 'Tis the very greates' rizzon to gather each day
a fresh one." He took a red bud from his breast for an instant, and
touched it to his lips.

"M. de Chateaurien!" It was Lady Mary's voice; she stood at a table
where a vacant place had been left beside her. "M. de Chateaurien, we
have been waiting very long for you."

The Duke saw the look she did not know she gave the Frenchman, and he
lost countenance for a moment.

"We approach a climax, eh, monsieur?" said M. de Chateaurien.



Chapter Four


There fell a clear September night, when the moon was radiant over town
and country, over cobbled streets and winding roads. From the fields the
mists rose slowly, and the air was mild and fragrant, while distances
were white and full of mystery. All of Bath that pretended to fashion or
condition was present that evening at a fete at the house of a country
gentleman of the neighborhood. When the stately junket was concluded, it
was the pleasure of M. de Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady
Mary's carriage for the return. As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford
and Mr. Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with
Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind, where