lood to her shoulders, curling in
little rings and waves about her forehead, her neck; veiling her face.
She gave a cry.

Velasco stood for a moment petrified, staring down into the frightened
eyes that were like twin wells of blue fixed on his own. Then he
leaped forward, snatched at the cloak, flung out his arms,--he had
clasped the air. She was gone. The door slammed back in his face and
the sound of her hurrying footsteps, light as a bird's, fled in the
distance.

He was all alone in the room.

Velasco rubbed his eyes with his hand and stared about him, strangely,
mechanically, like a sleep-walker. "What a dream! Ye gods, what a
dream!" He stretched his limbs yawning and laughed aloud; then he
paled suddenly. Was it a dream; or no--impossible. On the sleeve of
his black velvet jacket something glistened and sparkled, a thread as
of gold, fine and slender like silk, invisible almost as the fibrous
strings of his bow.

He raised it between his fingers. Then slowly, heavily, he went back
to his seat before the fire-place and flung himself down.

The lamp-light fell on the Persian rug dimly, flickeringly, the colours
were soft as an ancient fresco; the jewels were gone, and the coals
burned lower, dying. He lit a cigarette and began to smoke. The
violin was in his arms. He played low to himself, dreamily, fitfully,
his eyes half closed, dark slits beneath the brows.

At his feet lay the violets crushed and strewn; a twist of paper
creased, blotted.

The light of the lamp grew dimmer. The malachite clock struck again
and again. The night passed.

CHAPTER IV

Below the Nicholai Bridge, on the right quay of the Neva, stands the
palace of the Grand-Duke Stepan, a huge, granite structure, massive in
form and splendid in architecture.

The palace was ablaze with light. In the famous ball-room thousands of
electric bulbs twinkled and sparkled, star-shaped and dazzling. Its
lofty, dome-like vault, resting on marble columns, was encircled by a
balcony, narrow and sculptured, from which the music of the band rose
and fell, soft, entrancing, invisible, as from the clouds. The walls
were of reddish marble rounded at the corners. The floor, shining,
polished as a mirror, reflected the swaying forms of the dancers as
they whirled to and fro.

Beyond, on the grand stair-case, the guests ascended slowly in groups
of twos and threes, flecking the marble with splashes of colour,
radiant, vivid, lik