llenge of whispers. His eyes sought only one; he soon saw
her, in the white and silver mask-dress, with the spray of carmine-hued
eastern flowers, by which he had been told, days ago, to recognize her.
A crowd of dominoes were about her, some masked, some not. Her eyes
glanced through the envious disguise, and her lips were laughing. He
approached her with all his old tact in the art d'arborer le cotillon;
not hurriedly, so as to attract notice, but carefully, so as to glide
into a place near her.

"You promised me this waltz," he said very gently in her ear. "I have
come in time for it."

She recognized him by his voice, and turned from a French prince to
rebuke him for his truancy, with gay raillery and much anger.

"Forgive me, and let me have this one waltz--please do!" She glanced at
him a moment, and let him lead her out.

"No one has my step as you have it, Bertie," she murmured, as they
glided into the measure of the dance.

She thought his glance fell sadly on her as he smiled.

"No?--but others will soon learn it."

Yet he had never treaded more deftly the maze of the waltzers, never
trodden more softly, more swiftly, or with more science, the polished
floor. The waltz was perfect; she did not know it was also a farewell.
The delicate perfume of her floating dress, the gleam of the scarlet
flower-spray, the flash of the diamonds studding her domino, the
fragrance of her lips as they breathed so near his own; they haunted him
many a long year afterward.

His voice was very calm, his smile was very gentle, his step, as he
swung easily through the intricacies of the circle, was none the less
smooth and sure for the race that had so late strained his sinews to
bursting; the woman he loved saw no change in him; but as the waltz drew
to its end, she felt his heart beat louder and quicker on her own; she
felt his hand hold her own more closely, she felt his head drooped over
her till his lips almost touched her brow;--it was his last embrace;
no other could be given here, in the multitude of these courtly
crowds. Then, with a few low-murmured words that thrilled her in their
utterance, and echoed in her memory for years to come, he resigned
her to the Austrian Grand Duke who was her next claimant, and left her
silently--forever.

Less heroism has often proclaimed itself, with blatant trumpet to the
world--a martyrdom.

He looked back once as he passed from the ballroom--back to the sea
of colors, to the