ht have some fresh interest ready for him. This
trouble had been spared her. He himself took thought for a suitable
occupation to fill up his time. So much the better. He had adapted
himself to the circumstances, after all. He no longer looked upon it as
a passing liaison, but had settled down permanently and finally to lead
his accustomed life with her.

It took a weight off her mind, and gave her a sense of peace and
security such as she had not known since the return to Paris. She too
began to come out of her shell, and to resume her former mode of life.
She fulfilled her social duties, and paid and received calls, which
Wilhelm was allowed to shirk. At the end of January the first ball of
the Spanish embassy took place. Pilar's whole set was invited, and she
could not well absent herself without exciting remark. She therefore
made the necessary preparations for the festivity. A diadem of
brilliants was sent to be reset, a sensational gown composed, after
repeated conferences with a great ladies' tailor, a pattern in seed
pearls chosen for the embroidery of the long gloves. Don Pablo galloped
about like a post-horse from morning till night; gorgeous vans, with
liveried attendants, from the fashionable shops stopped constantly at
the door to deliver parcels; there was an unceasing stream of
messengers, shop people, and needlewomen. But Wilhelm was oblivious of
it all; Pilar did not trouble him with such frivolous matters. It was
not till the very day of the ball that she handed him the card of
invitation she had procured for him at the embassy, and asked, as a
precaution:

"You have all you require, have you not?"

Wilhelm glanced at the pink, glazed card.

"But, Pilar, do you know me so little?"

"I know that you do not care for these stupid entertainments," she
answered coaxingly, "but I thought you would go to please me."

"So you are going?" he asked.

"I must," she replied. "They know that I am in Paris, and I wish to
avoid the remark that would be made if I stayed away."

"You are quite right," said Wilhelm, "but you will have to go without
me."

"Don't be a bear!" she urged. "It will interest you to see this side of
Parisian life. I don't say that I would ask you to do it often, but you
might--just this once. Beside, you have been more than three months in
Paris, and you do not know one real Parisian. Now, here is an
opportunity of meeting artists, authors, academicians, senators--and
there are some