Lionel said to her,
peering through the window of the brougham, "but I suppose the glare of
the gas-lamps would hide it in any case. However, there's a good deal of
fog always along the Thames at this time of year; don't be disappointed,
Miss Girond, if you have to remain in-doors. Indeed, it is far too cold
to go wandering about among statues in the moonlight."

"And if in the dark, they will be all the more mysterieuz, do
you not think?" said Mlle. Girond, eagerly. "And there will be
surprises--perhaps a laugh, perhaps a shriek--if you run against some
one."

"Oh, no, I am not going to allow anything of that kind," said he. "I
have to look after you young ladies, and you must conduct yourselves
with the strictest decorum."

"Yes, for Nina," Mlle. Girond cried, gayly. "That is for Nina--for me,
no! I will have some amusement, or I will run away. Who gave you control
of me, monsieur? I thank you, but I do not wish it."

"Estelle!" said Nina, in tones of grave reproach.

"Ah!" said the wilful young lady, and she put out the tips of her
fingers as though she would shake away from her these too-serious
companions. "You have become English, Nina. Very well. If I have no more
gay companion, I go out and seek a statue--I beckon to him--I defy
him--ah! he freezes me--he nods his head--it is the Commendatore!" And
then she sang, in portentous bass notes--

"Don Giovanni, a cenar teco
M' invitasti--e son venuto!"

Lionel let down the window.

"Do you see that, Miss Girond?"

Far away, above the blue mists and the jet-black trees (for they were
out in the country by this time), hung a small, opaque disk of dingy
orange.

"It is the moon, Leo!" cried Nina. "Ah, but so dull!"

"That is the fog lying over the low country," he said; "it may be
clearer when we get to the top of the hill. It is to be hoped so, at all
events. Fancy a theatrical company going out to a rustic festivity and
not provided with a better moon than that!"

However, when they finally reached the Star and Garter, they had
forgotten about the moon and the aspect of the night; for here were the
wide steps and the portico all ablaze with a friendly yellow glow; and
just inside stood Mr. Lehmann, with the most shining shirt-front ever
beheld, receiving his guests as they arrived. Here, too, was Lord
Denysfort, a feeble-looking young man, with huge ears and no chin to
speak of, who, however, had shown some sense in engaging a professional
whip