“And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?”
“No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in love with you. You deceived me into loving you...” She sighed. “Oh, had you but been as strong as I thought you... Still, a swain the more. That is something.” She leaned forward, smiling archly. “Those studs—show me them again.”
The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched them lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
At length, “Do give me them,” she said. “I will keep them in a little secret partition of my jewel-case.” The Duke had closed his fist. “Do!” she pleaded. “My other jewels—they have no separate meanings for me. I never remember who gave me this one or that. These would be quite different. I should always remember their history... Do!”
“Ask me for anything else,” said the Duke. “These are the one thing I could not part with—even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed.”
Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her mind, and was silent.
“Well!” she said abruptly, “how about these races? Are you going to take me to see them?”
“Races? What races?” murmured the Duke. “Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do you really mean that you want to see them?”
“Why, of course! They are great fun, aren’t they?”
“And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of time. The Second Division is not rowed till half-past four.”
“The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?”
“That is not rowed till six.”
“Isn’t this rather an odd arrangement?”
“No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in mathematics.”
“Why, it’s not yet three!” cried Zuleika, with a woebegone stare at the clock. “What is to be done in the meantime?”
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