danced, and afterward, the company being now
happy and cheerful, and being, moreover, of sufficiently high and
similar rank to dispense with somewhat of the rigid court etiquette,
began to wander through the rooms in an informal manner, and to arrange
_contre-danses_ among themselves.

In those days the _contre-danse_ had not hardened itself into the
quadrille. It was danced, not in fours, but in sets of varying numbers,
and of characters and figures mostly undefined.

In one of the great halls, recently erected by the Emperor-architect,
Charles VI., in a different taste from the older rooms, with marble
floors and ceiling, and lined with mirrors, a very large set, composed
of guests of the highest rank, was being watched by no inconsiderable
number of their companions.

It is difficult to conceive a more magnificent or fascinating sight,
reflected and multiplied as it was by the mirrors on the walls.

The Princess von Isenberg-Wertheim was dancing with a young noble, a
prince of the House of Colleredo, a very handsome, but gay and reckless,
young man. The dance was drawing to a close, the musicians, playing one
of the last figures, _La Pastorelle_, to a very delicate and fine
movement, to which the dancers were devoting their utmost, closest
attention and skill.

As the Princess was standing by her partner, awaiting their turn to go
down the dance, a slight movement caused her to turn her head, and she
found the Count, her friend, standing close to her.

"I am sorry to interrupt, Princess," he said, in a low voice, "but I
fear something serious has happened to the Prince. He cannot be found."

The Princess turned very pale. She caught her breath for a moment, then
she said, in the same tone, "Where is Karl, the _Jager_?"

"I do not know," replied the Count. "I never thought of him."

"Then he is not here," said the Princess, with a relieved air. "If Karl
is with him the Prince is safe."

The Count made a very slight movement of his shoulders, but the
Princess turned serenely to the young man.

"We will finish the figure, Monseigneur," she said graciously; "then,
perhaps, you will excuse me."

"Nothing has happened to the Prince, believe me," said the young man
kindly, as they moved down the room. "He has doubtless gone on some
private expedition with his servant. He probably forgot to leave a
message, and will return to-morrow."

The Princess was so reassured, apparently, by these reflections that she
r