or of anyone; only
of the swing and beat of the music, the sway of life and colour, her
own body swaying to it, enslaved to the moment and answering no other
call.

"I understand why they call it the Triumph," he murmured, as he led
her back to her seat. She turned her eyes on him as one coming out of
a dream.

"I have never enjoyed a dance so much in my life," she said seriously.

He laughed.

"It must have been an inspiration--" he began, and checked himself,
with a glance over his shoulder at the painted panel behind them.

"You were saying--" She looked up after a moment.

"Nothing. Listen to the Ting-tang!"

He drew aside one of the orange curtains, and Dorothea heard the note
of a bell clanging in a distant street. "Time for all good prisoners
to be in bed, and Heaven temper the wind to the thin blanket! It is
snowing--snowing furiously."

"Do they suffer much in these winters?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"They die sometimes, though your brother does his best to prevent it.
It promises to be a hard season for them."

"I wish I could help; but Endymion--my brother does not approve of
ladies mixing themselves up in these affairs."

"Yet he has carried off half-a-dozen to the supper-room, where at a
side table three of my compatriots are vending knick-knacks, to add
a little beef to their _ragouts_."

"Is it that which has annoyed General Rochambeau?"

She had recognised the phrase, but let it pass.

"It is."

She understood. For some reason her brain was unusually clear tonight.
At any other time she would have defended, or at least excused, her
brother. She knew it, and found time to wonder at her new practicality
as she answered:

"I must think of some way to help."

She saw his brow clear--saw that had risen in his esteem--and was
glad.

"To you, Mademoiselle, we shall find it easy to be grateful."

"By helping them," she explained, "I may also be helping my brother.
You do not understand him as I do, and you sharpen your wit upon him,"

"Be assured it does not hurt him, Mademoiselle."

"No, but it hurts _me_."

He bowed gravely.

"It shall not hurt you, again. Whom you love, you shall protect."

"Ah! M. Raoul!" Endymion Westcote hailed him from the doorway and
crossed the room with Narcissus in tow. "My brother is interested in
your panel of Bacchus and Ariadne; he will be glad to discuss it with
you. Br-r-r-!"--he shivered--"I have been down to the door, and it
is snowing v