of the violins made it still seem like a voice that comes
through a veil of dreams. Instinctively Crystal began to hum the
waltz-tune and her little head with its quaint coronet of fair curls
beat time to the languid lilt.

"Will you dance with me, Crystal?"

"No! no!" she protested.

"Just once--to-night. To-morrow we fight--let us dance to-night."

And before she could protest further, her will seemed to fall away from
her: she knew that her father, her aunt would be angry, that--as like as
not--Maurice would make a scene. She knew that Maurice--to whom she had
plighted her troth--had branded this man as a liar and a traitor: her
father believed him to be a traitor, and she . . . Well! what had he
done to disprove Maurice's accusations? A few words of passionate
protestations! . . . Did they count? . . . He wore his King's
uniform--many careless adventurers did that these strenuous times! . . .

And he wanted her to dance . . . ! how could she--Crystal de Cambray,
the future wife of the Marquis de St. Genis, the cynosure of a great
many eyes to-night--how could she show herself in public on his arm, in
a crowded ballroom?

Yet she could not refuse. She could not. Surely it was all a dream, and
in a dream man is but the slave of circumstance and has no will of his
own.

She was very young and loved to dance: and she had heard that Englishmen
danced well. Besides, it was all a dream. She would wake in a moment or
two and find herself sitting quietly among the roses with Maurice beside
her, telling her of his love, and of their happy future together.

VI

But in the meanwhile the dream was lasting. Her partner was a perfect
dancer, and this new, delicious waltz--inspiriting yet languorous,
rhythmical and half barbaric--sent a keen feeling of joy and of zest
into Crystal's whole being.

She was not conscious of the many stares that were levelled at her as
she suddenly appeared among the crowd in the ballroom, her face flushed
with excitement, her perfect figure moving with exquisite grace to the
measure of the dance.

The last dance together!

A few moments before, Clyffurde had made his way to the small boudoir in
search of fresh air, and had withdrawn to a window embrasure away from a
throng that maddened him in his misery of loneliness: then he realised
that Crystal was sitting quite close to him, that St. Genis, who had
been in constant attendance on her, presently left her to herself and
that withou