"The eyes?" she urged.

"I have been to Gaspe, and west to Esquimault, and in England, but I have
never seen such as those," he said. Race and primitive man spoke there.

She laughed. "Come closer, little man."

He did so. She suddenly rose, dropped her hands on his shoulders, and
kissed his cheek.

"Now bring the horse, and I will kiss him too."

Did she think she could rouse Gaston by kissing his servant? Yet it did
not disgust him. He knew it was a bit of acting, and it was well done.
Besides, Jacques Brillon was not a mere servant, and he, too, had done
well. She sat back and laughed lightly when Jacques was gone. Then she
said: "The honest fellow!" and hummed an air:

"'The pretty coquette
Well she needs to be wise,
Though she strike to the heart
By a glance of her eyes.

"'For the daintiest bird
Is the sport of the storm,
And the rose fadeth most
When the bosom is warm.'"

In twenty minutes the gate of the garden opened, and Jacques appeared
with Saracen. The horse's black skin glistened in the lights, and he