She spoke so lightly, smiling softly into my eyes, that I hardly detected the faint tinge of regretful sarcasm in her low voice.

“Josette, you ask me?  Why, Josette is indeed a most charming girl, Mademoiselle; but to my mind there can be no comparison between her and you, for you are the fairest woman I have ever known.”

Her dark eyes were full upon me, and I saw her parted lips move as if she would speak.  But no words came, and we stood there silent except for the nervous tapping of her foot against the floor.  Her look of seriousness changed into a smile.

“By my faith, but you pay compliments with so grave a countenance, Monsieur, that I hardly know how to receive them.  Most men whisper such things with a light laugh, or a twinkle of the eye, and I know their words to be empty as bubbles of air.  But you,—­why, you almost make me feel you are in earnest.”

“And I am,” I interrupted, longing to seize her hand as I knew De Croix would have done, and pour forth the words that burnt upon my lips.  “I have not been privileged to see much of the great outside world, Mademoiselle,—­the world of courts and cities,—­nor do I know how lovely its women may be; but no ideal formed in dreams satisfies me as you do.  I know naught of idle compliments, nor the graces of a courtier; but my words are from the heart.”

“I do truly believe and trust you, John Wayland,” and she gave me her hand.  “But let us talk of this no longer.  My vanity is already more than satisfied by your frank and honest speech.  And so you found Josette?”

“Yes,” I answered, scarce noting what it was I said, so puzzled was I by her quick retreat.

“And that meeting, perchance, was so pleasant that it has taken your thought from all else?  It must indeed be so, or why is it that Master Wayland doth not claim of me the stake of the wager?”

“Because,” I stammered, greatly embarrassed by her roguish questioning eyes, “I fear it has not been fairly won.”

“Not fairly won?” she echoed, puzzled by my tone and manner.  “Surely you have made the trip, and the terms were plain.  Really, Monsieur, you do not think I would withhold so small a reward from the winner?”

“But there was another,—­the prize was destined for him who came back first.”

“And has Captain de Croix returned also?”

“We arrived together, Mademoiselle, but it was his good fortune to be earliest through the gate.”

’Twas good to see how her face lit up with the amusement this reply afforded her.

“Pish! but you are in truth the most marvellous man I ever knew.  ’T is good to meet with such open honesty; and when did maid ever have before so unselfish a cavalier to do her honor?  Monsieur, I greatly doubt if Captain de Croix will prove so thoughtful when his hour comes.”

“You are right, Toinette,” broke in a voice at my back.  “I know not what Master Wayland may be yielding up so easily, but, like the Shylock of your William Shakespeare, I am here to claim my pound of flesh.”