odor of roses which exhaled from her. He took the hand she had unconsciously stretched towards him, and bending over it touched it softly with his cold lips.
“Thank you. Good-bye, dear lady, till we meet again.”
“Au revoir, Mr. Morton.”
She allowed her hand to remain in his, and with the other drew a little rosebud from among its sisters on her breast and offered it to him.
“This,” she said, smiling saucily, “is for our Bayard—le preux chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.”
Morton took the flower reverently—“I shall keep it in memory of the honor you have conferred on me,” he said. “Au revoir, Comtesse—May God bless you and guard you.”
He bowed once more and kissed her hand again. Then letting it gently slip from his hold he turned to the door.