nwhile--" he dropped his voice so as to be heard of her only,--"with
wondering what kept you so awfully long."

"Interesting company, funny sights."

"Are you too tired to come down again and give me a dance?"

"Bless your soul, I'm not tired, but I'm going home."

"_Going home?_"

"Man, do you know what time it is?"

"I know, of course. But you can't mean you are going home. You only came
at midnight, and it's less than half-past two. Hosts of people stay
until the big chandelier goes out."

"Ah, don't try to talk me over! It's time I sought my downy, if I want
to get up in the morning. We're going to begin Lent like good girls,
Estelle and I, by going to church."

Gerald was certain these excuses were hollow. It was obvious, at the
same time, that Mrs. Hawthorne was bent on leaving. He was vexed. He
wondered what her real reason was, as men so often do, after women have
taken pains to give them in detail their reasons, and tried, ignoring
what she said, to get some light from her face.

It looked to him excited in a smothered way. He at once connected this
repressed excitement with Landini; but then, the face was mirthful, too,
in the same lurking manner, and the proposals of a serious man could
hardly affect even the most frivolous quite like a comic valentine.

He finally preferred the simplest interpretation: she had seen as much
as she wanted to; she was prosaically sleepy and going home to bed.

"Good night," she said. "Come soon to see us! Adieu; no,
_ory-vwaw_."

"Am I not permitted to take you to your carriage?"

After seeing them tucked in their snug coupe and hearing this wheel off,
Gerald returned to the great hall. He without question would remain
until the big light was extinguished. Colors, forms, sparkle, golden
haze--a painter must be dead or a duffer to leave before the gay glory
of it faded and was dispersed in the gray dawn.

The scene viewed from near had its cheapness, its crudity, like those
poor painted faces of the dancers pirouetting in the midst of a public
they can more surely enchant from the distance of the stage. The
costumes, so many of them, came from humble costumers who let them from
year to year without renewal of the tinsel or freshening of the ribbons.
But those very things gave to this page of life its depth of interest,
gave reality to this romance.

The ball was taking a slightly rougher, noisier character as it
approached the end. Some of the boxes were darken