he real hall of Paradise.

CHAPTER V.

He was just crossing the threshold when a well-known voice struck his
ear, proceeding from the corner where the little wine cask lay, covered
up by green oleander bushes. "_Buenas tardes, Senor Don Felix!_ You
come rather late, but not too late to prevent you from dancing yourself
tired. I have the honor to introduce you to one of my countrywomen, a
genuine Gitana. Senorita ----."

But Felix had long ceased to hear what he said. Before him
stood--Irene.

She looked marvelously charming as she stood there, her picturesque
shawls and draperies thrown loosely about her, her hair ornamented with
a heavy string of corals and gold coins, large silver rings in her
ears, and her eyebrows slightly darkened and joined together over her
proud little nose by a delicate line! And how her cheeks glowed at this
sudden meeting with him whom, after all, she had expected, and for
whose sake she had thus adorned herself; how she cast down her
eyes--and breathed hard--and tried to smile, and yet had enough to do
to keep back the tears that were welling up behind her eyelashes!

For a minute or two Schnetz stood gazing with delight at this most
charming of all pantomimes. Then he came to the assistance of the
embarrassed couple.

"You are not altogether unacquainted with each other," said he, in his
driest manner. "Senorita Gitana has to thank this noble Andalusian for
saving her life from the tempestuous waves of the lake of Starnberg. He
will now steer her quite as safely through the dangers of a waltz,
better, most certainly, than your humble servant, whose strut might
possibly strike her as rather too Spanish. So at it, youngster! pluck
up courage and lead the Gitanilla to the dance. After that she will
show you how to read your future from your hand."

Felix recovered himself by a violent effort. "Shall we dance?"
stammered he, in a scarcely audible voice, as he stepped up to Irene.

She nodded assent, and the glow on her face burned hotter, but she
spoke not a word, and did not even raise her eyes. She seemed to him so
utterly transformed that, even now, when he felt her hand resting on
his arm, and saw her gliding along at his side, he was almost inclined
to doubt again whether it could really be she. He had never seen her so
yielding, so tremblingly timid, so incapable of uttering a word; and
now when he held her close and swung her in the dance,