arting,
The notes beneath her fingers starting,
Trip o'er the strings in playful numbers.

To stop their flight her voice she pours
Full after them; they laugh, and fly,
And to my heart for refuge hie:
Her voice pursues them through its doors.

Leave me, ye mischiefs! hence remove!
They bar themselves within, and say:
Till this be broken here we stay,
That thou mayst know what 'tis to love.

Emilius stood up fretfully. It grew darker, but no Roderick came; and
he was wishing to tell him of his love for an unknown fair one, who
dwelt in the opposite house, and who kept him at home all day long,
and waking through many a night.

At length footsteps sounded on the stairs; the door opened without
anybody knocking at it: and in came two gay masks with ugly visages,
one of them a Turk, drest in red and blue silk, the other a Spaniard,
in pale yellow and pink, with a plume of feathers waving on his hat.
When Emilius was losing patience, Roderick took off his mask, shewed
his well-known laughing countenance, and cried: "Heyday, my good
friend, what a drowned puppy of a face! Is this the way to look in the
carnival? I am come with my dear young officer here to carry you off:
there is a grand ball tonight at the masquerade-rooms; and, as I know
you have forsworn ever putting on any other suit than that which you
always wear of the devil's own colour, come with us black as you are;
for it is getting somewhat late."

Emilius felt angry, and said: "It seems that according to custom you
have totally forgotten your engagement. I am extremely sorry," (he
added, turning to the stranger) "that I cannot possibly be of your
party: my friend has been overhasty in promising for me; indeed I
cannot go out at all, having some matters of importance to talk over
with him."

The stranger, who was well-bred and saw Emiliuses meaning, withdrew:
but Roderick with the utmost indifference put on his mask again, took
his stand before the glass, and exclaimed: "Verily, I am a most
hideous figure, am I not? After all my pains it is a tasteless,
disgusting device."

"That there can be no question about!" answered Emilius in vehement
displeasure. "Making a caricature of yourself, and stupefying your
senses, are among the pleasures you are the fondest of driving at."

"Because you don't like dancing," said the other, "and look upon it as
a pernicious invention, not a soul in the world is to be merry. How
tiresome it is when a ma