cup at your age, my dear. Have you examined your favour yet?"
Remembering, the girl caught at her corsage. Cries of delight were arising on all sides as the favours were revealed—most handsome favours, even for Mardi Gras! From the heart of the rosebuds in her hand Lucie removed a brooch of old filigree work set with a group of pearls. She glanced about for Jachin Fell, but he had vanished with Maillard. A voice rose at her elbow:
"Mademoiselle, you are not less lucky than beautiful! Pearls to the pearl!"
She turned to see the Franciscan—no longer masked, but now gazing at her from a frank, laughing countenance, still partially veiled by the brown cowl that was drawn up close about his head.
"Henry Gramont!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I half suspected that it was you"
"But you were not sure?" he chuckled. "You're not offended with me, Lucie?"
"I should be." She tossed her head. "You were impertinent, M. le prince!"
He made a distasteful gesture. "None of that, Lucie! You know I don't like it"
"Oh, la, la!" she mocked him. "M. le
