the figures of
the cotillon; enchanting strains of waltz music seemed to float down from
above and inspire the crowd of men and women with harmonious motion, so
that sound was made visible by translation into graceful movement. As
Corona looked there was a pause, and the crowd parted, while a huge
tiger, the heraldic beast of the Frangipani family, was drawn into the
hall by the young prince and Bianca Valdarno. The magnificent skin had
been so artfully stuffed as to convey a startling impression of life, and
in the creature's huge jaws hung a great basket filled with tiny tigers,
which were to be distributed as badges for the dance by the leaders. A
wild burst of applause greeted this novel figure, and every one ran
forward to obtain a nearer view.

"Ah!" exclaimed old Astrardente, "I envy them that invention, my dear; it
is perfectly magnificent. You must have a tiger to take home. How
fortunate we were to be in time!" He forced his way into the crowd,
leaving his wife alone for a moment by the door; and he managed to catch
Valdarno, who was distributing the little emblems to right and left.
Madame Mayer's quick eyes had caught sight of Corona and her husband, and
from some instinct of curiosity she made towards the Duchessa. She was
still angry, as she had never been in her short life, at Giovanni's
rudeness in forgetting her dance, and she longed to inflict some wound
upon the beautiful woman who had led him into such forgetfulness. When
Astrardente left his wife's side, Donna Tullia pressed forward with her
partner in the general confusion that followed upon the entrance of the
tiger, and she managed to pass close to Corona. She looked up suddenly
with an air of surprise.

"What! not dancing, Duchessa?" she asked. "Has your partner gone home?"

With the look that accompanied the question, it was an insulting speech
enough. Had Donna Tullia seen old Astrardente close behind her, she would
not have made it. The old dandy was returning in triumph in possession of
the little tiger-badge for Corona. He heard the words, and observed with
inward pleasure his wife's calm look of indifference.

"Madam," he said, placing himself suddenly in Madame Mayer's way, "my
wife's partners do not go home while she remains."

"Oh, I see," returned Donna Tullia, flushing quickly; "the Duchessa is
dancing the cotillon with you. I beg your pardon--I had forgotten that
you still danced."

"Indeed it is long since I did myself the hon