a human
voice, and jars upon me, and then he breaks into a waltz, pushing the
astonished musicians aside, and telling the company to dance while he
pipes.

A mad dance to a mad tune. He plays and plays on, ever faster, and ever
a wilder measure, with strange eerie clanging chords in it which are not
like dance notes, until Adelaide prepares to go, and then he suddenly
ceases, springs up, and comes with us to our carriage. Adelaide looks
white and worn.

Again at the carriage door, "a pair of words" passes between them.

"Milady is tired?" from him, in a courteous tone, as his dark eyes dwell
upon her face.

"Thanks, Herr Direktor, I am generally tired," from her, with a slight
smile, as she folds her shawl across her breast with one hand, and
extends the other to him.

"Milady, adieu."

"Adieu, Herr von Francius."

The ball is over, and I think we have all had enough of it.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE CARNIVAL BALL.

"Aren't you coming to the ball, Eugen?"

"I? No."

"I would if I were you."

"But you are yourself, you see, and I am I. What was it that Heinrich
Mohr in 'The Children of the World' was always saying? _Ich bin ich,
und setze mich selbst._ Ditto me, that's all."

"It is no end of a lark," I pursued.

"My larking days are over."

"And you can talk to any one you like."

"I am going to talk to myself, thanks. I have long wanted a little
conversation with that interesting individual, and while you are
masquerading, I will be doing the reverse. By the time you come home I
shall be so thoroughly self-investigated and set to rights that a mere
look at me will shake all the frivolity out of you."

"Miss Wedderburn will be there."

"I hope she may enjoy it."

"At least she will look so lovely that she will make others enjoy it."

He made no answer.

"You won't go--quite certain?"

"Quite certain, _mein lieber_. Go yourself, and may you have much
pleasure."

Finding that he was in earnest, I went out to hire one domino and
purchase one mask, instead of furnishing myself, as I had hoped, with
two of each of those requisites.

It was Sunday, the first day of the carnival, and that devoted to the
ball of the season. There were others given, but this was the Malerball,
or artists' ball. It was considered rather select, and had I not been
lucky enough to have one or two pupils, members of the club, who had
come forward with offerings of tickets, I might have tried in vain to
gain ad