“An apology, madam!” she said--“from us! He will please to inform the count! I think I have not heard you aright.” “Pooh, child!” said the marquise good-humouredly. “You have heard; and I have heard. But it is possible we may draw different conclusions. Bon voyage, monsieur. We had some news of his Excellency’s passing.” Tiretta rejoined his travelling companion, who during all this time had been chafing in his inability to detect what was passing within the enshrouding coverture of foliage. The archduke greeted him with some impatience. “Well,” he said. “Did beauty accept the gage?” “The gage,” said Tiretta, “lies sunk and damned to all eternity within the pool.” “She threw it there?” “_I_ threw it there.” “_You_, sir?” “_I_, your Highness; and may you be damned with it before I consent ever again to risk being mistaken for your pander.” The prince, shrinking amazed a moment as if he had been struck, stalked to the carriage, entered it, and sat down. “Shall I walk?” said Tiretta, grimly, at the door. The other hesitated; then silently, peremptorily, touched the seat beside him. Tiretta, without a word, occupied it, and the carriage rolled on its way. Presently, urged beyond endurance, Joseph spoke. “This is very amusing. You would appear to have met with some rebuff. Surely, in so harmless a gallantry, you would not blame me for consequences quite unforeseen. Is it injured vanity, or another’s innuendo, that saddles you with that hurtful title.” “Another’s innuendo,” said the soldier shortly. “The lady’s?” “The lady’s.” “She said?” “She said, what the Infanta Isabella, daughter of Don Philip, was privileged to say to a poor devil approaching her with that insult in his hand.” “It was the Infanta?” “It was the Infanta.” * * * * * * * “Tiretta, my dear friend, tell me exactly what were her words?” “She desired, sir, to be spared the impertinences of strangers; and when I answered with the respectful gallantry of my mission, she retorted as only a woman can retort with impunity.” “A woman! Yet the vision of that child! I am sorry for you, Tiretta--and I am sorry for myself.” “You have need to be.” “Why? Did she know me for whom I was?” “I can answer for the marquise; I cannot answer for her. Likely not; and, if likely, happily not; else I think you would find her more woman than child if you came to woo. Be content for that, if it pleases you. I do not fancy, from what I noticed, that the marquise will enlighten her. You can be sorry, provisionally, nevertheless.”