So it was—with White Heather!
Charles got down and drew near them. 'I beg your pardon,' he said, raising his hat, and addressing Madame Picardet: 'I believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you. And since I have doubtless paid in the end for your victoria, may I venture to inquire for whom you are in mourning?'
White Heather drew back, sobbing; but Césarine turned to him, fiery red, with the mien of a lady. 'For him!' she answered; 'for Paul! for our king, whom you have imprisoned! As long as he remains there, we have both of us decided to wear mourning for ever!'
Charles raised his hat again, and drew back without one word. He waved his hand to Amelia and walked home with me to Cannes. He seemed deeply dejected.
'A penny for your thoughts!' I exclaimed, at last, in a jocular tone, trying feebly to rouse him.
He turned to me, and sighed. 'I was wondering,' he answered, 'if I had gone to prison, would Amelia and Isabel have done as much for me?'
For myself, I did not wonder. I knew pretty well. For Charles, you will admit, though the bigger rogue of the two, is scarcely the kind of rogue to inspire a woman with profound affection.
Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.
