"Why do you pull such a glum face?" she cried, leaning over to touch his
glass before she emptied hers. "Is it that you are thinking of poor
Cerveno? On my soul, I question if he needs your pity! He had his hour
of folly, and was too gallant a gentleman not to pay the shot. For my
part I would rather drink a poisoned draught than die of thirst."
The wine was rising in waves of colour over her throat and brow, and
setting her glass down she suddenly laid her ungloved hand on Odo's.
"Cousin," she said in a low voice, "I could help you if you would let
me."
"Help me?" he said, only half-aware of her words in the warm surprise of
her touch.
She drew back, but with a look that seemed to leave her hand in his.
"Are you mad," she murmured, "or do you despise your danger?"
"Am I in danger?" he echoed smiling. He was thinking how easily a man
might go under in that deep blue gaze of hers. She dropped her lids as
though aware of his thought.
"Why do you concern yourself with politics?" she went on with a new note
in her voice. "Can you find no diversion more suited to your rank and
age? Our court is a dull one, I own--but surely even here a man might
find a better use for his time."
Odo's self-possession returned in a flash. "I am not," cried he gaily,
"in a position to dispute it at this moment;" and he leaned over to
recapture her hand. To his surprise she freed herself with an affronted
air.
"Ah," she said, "you think this a device to provoke a gallant
conversation.
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