She replied with happy grace: "In love with you, Muscade? Ah! no. I like you, but I don't love you. Wait—I—I don't want to discourage you. I don't love you—yet. You have a chance—perhaps. Persevere, Muscade, be devoted, ardent, submissive, full of little attentions and considerations, docile to my slightest caprices, ready for anything to please me, and we shall see—later."
"But, Mam'zelle, I would rather furnish all you demand afterward than beforehand, if it be the same to you."
She asked with an artless air: "After what, Muscade?"
"After you have shown me that you love me, by Jove!"
"Well, act as if I loved you, and believe it, if you wish."
"But you—"
"Be quiet, Muscade; enough on the subject."
The sun had sunk behind the island, but the whole sky still flamed like a fire, and the peaceful water of the river seemed changed to blood. The reflections from the horizon reddened houses, objects, and persons. The scarlet rose in the Marquise's hair had the appearance of a splash of purple fallen from the clouds upon her head.
As Yvette looked on from her end, the Marquise rested, as if by carelessness, her bare hand upon Saval's hand; but the young girl made a motion and the Marquise withdrew her hand with a quick gesture, pretending to readjust something in the folds of her corsage.
Servigny, who was looking at them, said: