honor me?"

He walked with her to the door. Her hand fluttering faintly in his.
From somewhere about the garments of one of them a little cloud of faded
rose-leaves fell, and lay strewn on the floor behind them. He opened the
door, and the lights shone on a multitude of eager faces turned toward
it. There was a great hum of voices, and, over all, the fiddles wove a
wandering air, a sweet French song of the voyageur.

He bowed very low, as, with fixed and glistening eyes, Lady Mary
Carlisle, the Beauty of Bath, passed slowly by him and went out of the
room.