ression had revealed itself as part of my nature; to cherish and
exercise this new-found faculty might gift me with a world of delight,
but it would not do for a mere looker-on at life: the strength and
longing must be put by; and I put them by, and fastened them in with
the lock of a resolution which neither Time nor Temptation has since
picked.

No sooner was the play over, and _well_ over, than the choleric and
arbitrary M. Paul underwent a metamorphosis. His hour of managerial
responsibility past, he at once laid aside his magisterial austerity;
in a moment he stood amongst us, vivacious, kind, and social, shook
hands with us all round, thanked us separately, and announced his
determination that each of us should in turn be his partner in the
coming ball. On his claiming my promise, I told him I did not dance.
"For once I must," was the answer; and if I had not slipped aside and
kept out of his way, he would have compelled me to this second
performance. But I had acted enough for one evening; it was time I
retired into myself and my ordinary life. My dun-coloured dress did
well enough under a paletot on the stage, but would not suit a waltz or
a quadrille. Withdrawing to a quiet nook, whence unobserved I could
observe--the ball, its splendours and its pleasures, passed before me
as a spectacle.

Again Ginevra Fanshawe was the belle, the fairest and the gayest
present; she was selected to open the ball: very lovely she looked,
very gracefully she danced, very joyously she smiled. Such scenes were
her triumphs--she was the child of pleasure. Work or suffering found
her listless and dejected, powerless and repining; but gaiety expanded
her butterfly's wings, lit up their gold-dust and bright spots, made
her flash like a gem, and flush like a flower. At all ordinary diet and
plain beverage she would pout; but she fed on creams and ices like a
humming-bird on honey-paste: sweet wine was her element, and sweet cake
her daily bread. Ginevra lived her full life in a ball-room; elsewhere
she drooped dispirited.

Think not, reader, that she thus bloomed and sparkled for the mere sake
of M. Paul, her partner, or that she lavished her best graces that
night for the edification of her companions only, or for that of the
parents and grand-parents, who filled the carre, and lined the
ball-room; under circumstances so insipid and limited, with motives so
chilly and vapid, Ginevra would scarce have deigned to walk one
quadrille,