"But you do not need them," throwing a
deal of admiration into his glance.
"It does not take me long to dress--on occasions."
"A compliment to me?" he said.
"If you will accept it."
It was an exhilarating morning, full of forest perfumes. Through
the haze the mountains glittered like huge emeralds and
amethysts.
"What a day!" said the countess, as they galloped away.
"Aye, for plots and war and love!"
"For plots and war?" demurely. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair
as yellow as the silk of corn.
"Well, then, for love." He shortened his rein. "A propos, have
you ever been in love, countess?"
"I? What a question!"
"Have you?"
"N--no! Let us talk of plots and war," gazing across the valley.
"No; let us talk of love. I am in love, and one afflicted that
way wishes a confidant. I appoint you mine."
"Some rosy-cheeked peasant girl?" laughing.
"Perhaps. Perhaps it's only a--a pantry maid," with a sly look
from the corner of his eyes. Evidently she had not heard. She
was still laughing. "I have heard of hermits falling in love
with stars, and have laughed. Now I am in the same predicament.
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