it."

He slipped away; and I, remaining at my post of observation, saw him, an
instant later, passing quickly across the floor among the dancers, toward
Honoria. The Duke of Rosecouleur arrived at the same instant before her.
She smiled sorrowfully upon Dalton, and held out her hand in a languid
manner toward the Duke, and again they floated away upon the eddies of the
music. I followed them with eyes fixed in admiration. It was a vision of
the orgies of Olympus,--Zeus and Aphrodite circling to a theme of Chronos.

Had Honoria tasted of the Indian drug, the weed of paradise? Her eyes,
fixed upon the Duke's, shone like molten sapphires. A tress of chestnut
hair, escaping from the diamond coronet, sprang lovingly forward and
twined itself over her white shoulder and still fairer bosom. Tints like
flitting clouds, Titianic, the mystery and despair of art, disclosed to
the intelligent eye the feeling that mastered her spirit and her sense.
Admirable beauty! Unrivalled, unhappy! The Phidian idol of gold and ivory,
into which a demon had entered, overthrown, and the worshippers gazing on
it with a scorn unmixed with pity!

The sullen animal rage of battle is nothing to the livor, the burning
hatred of the drawing-room. Dalton, defeated, cast a glance of deadly
hostility on the Duke. Nor was it lost. While the waltz continued, for ten
minutes, he stood motionless. Fearing some untoward event, I came down and
took my place near him.

The Duke led Honoria to a sofa. But for his arm she would again have
fallen. Dalton had recovered his courage and natural haughtiness. The tone
of his voice, rich, tender, and delicately expressive, did not change.

"Honoria, you sent for _me_; and the Duke wishes to see the pictures. The
air of the gallery will relieve your faintness."

He offered his arm, which she, rising mechanically, accepted. A deep blush
crimsoned her features, at the allusion to her weakness. Several of the
guests moved after us, as we passed into the gallery. The Duke's shadow,
Reve de Noir, following last, closed the ivory doors. We passed through
the gallery,--where pyramids of sunny fruits, in baskets of fine
porcelain, stood relieved by gold and silver services for wine and coffee,
disposed on the tables,--and thence entered another and smaller room,
devoid of ornament, but the crimson tapestried walls were covered with
works or copies of the great masters of Italy.

Opposite the entrance there was a picture of a