tness that no time can dim; Brunhild and von Tronje-Hagen--this was
before the days of Bayreuth and the Tetralogy--Tannhauser and Lohengrin,
the Loreley, Walther von der Vogelweide, the two Elizabeths of the
Wartburg, dozens of obscure legends and figures from "Volkslieder" and
Folklore which I did not recognize; "Dornroschen," Rubezahl; and the
music to which they marched, was the melancholy yet noble measure, "The
Last Ten of the Fourth Regiment."

I surveyed the masks and masquerading for some time, keeping my eye all
the while upon the party near me. They presently separated. Lady Le
Marchant took the arm which von Francius offered her, and they went down
the steps. Miss Wedderburn and the young secretary were left alone. I
was standing near them, and two other masks, both in domino, hoveredaeae
about. One wore a white domino with a scarlet rosette on the breast. The
other was a black domino, closely disguised, who looked long after von
Francius and Lady Le Marchant, and presently descended the orchestra
steps and followed in their wake.

"Do not remain with me, Mr. Arkwright," I heard Miss Wedderburn say.
"You want to dance. Go and enjoy yourself."

"I could not think of leaving you alone, Miss Wedderburn."

"Oh, yes, you could, and can. I am not going to move from here. I want
to look on--not to dance. You will find me here when you return."

Again she urged him not to remain with her, and finally he departed in
search of amusement among the crowd below.

Miss Wedderburn was now alone. She turned; her eyes, through her mask,
met mine through my mask, and a certain thrill shot through me. This was
such an opportunity as I had never hoped for, and I told myself that I
should be a great fool if I let it slip. But how to begin? I looked at
her. She was very beautiful, this young English girl, with the wonderful
blending of fire and softness which had made me from the first think her
one of the most attractive women I had ever seen.

As I stood, awkward and undecided, she beckoned me to her. In an instant
I was at her side, bowing but maintaining silence.

"You are Herr Helfen, _nicht wahr_?" said she, inquiringly.

"Yes," said I, and removed my mask. "How did you know it?"

"Something in your figure and attitude. Are you not dancing?"

"I--oh, no!"

"Nor I--I am not in the humor for it. I never felt less like dancing,
nor less like a masquerade." Then--hesitatingly--"Are you alone
to-night?"

"Yes. Euge