confirm it if you consent!" I said, furious to burn at a jest
from her under a thousand eyes.

"Ask me again," she murmured; "we make our reverences here."

She took her silk and silver petticoat between thumb and forefinger of
each hand and slowly sank, making the lowest, stateliest curtsy that I
ever bowed beside; and I heard a low, running murmur sweep the bright,
jeweled ranks around us as we recovered and passed on, ceding our place
to others next behind.

The artillerymen had made the great loft gay with bunting. Jacks and
signal-flags hung from the high beams overhead, clothing the bare
timbers with thickets of gayest foliage; banners and bright scarfs,
caught up with trophies, hung festooned along the unpainted walls. They
had made a balcony with stairs where the band was perched, the music of
the artillery augmented by strings--a harp, half a dozen fiddles,
cellos, bassoons, and hautboys, and there were flutes, too, and
trumpets lent by the cavalry, and sufficient drums to make that fine,
deep, thunderous undertone, which I love to hear, and which heats my
cheeks with pleasure.

Beyond the spar-loft the sail-loft had been set aside and fashioned
most elegantly for refreshment. An immense table crossed it, behind
which servants stood, and behind the servants the wall had been lined
with shelves covered with cakes, oranges, apples, early peaches, melons
and nectarines, and late strawberries, also wines of every sort,
pastry, jellies, whip-syllabub, rocky and floating island, blanc-mange,
brandied preserves--and Heaven knows what! But Elsin Grey whispered me
that Pryor the confectioner had orders for coriander and cinnamon
comfits by the bushel, and orange, lemon, chocolate, and burned almonds
by the peck.

"Do look at Lady Coleville," whispered Elsin, gently touching my
sleeve; "is she not sweet as a bride with Sir Peter? And oh, that gown!
with the lilac ribbons and flounce of five rows of lace. Carus, she has
forty diamond buttons upon her petticoat, and her stomacher is all
amethysts!"

"I wonder where Walter Butler is?" I said restlessly.

"Do you wish to be rid of me?" she asked.

"God forbid! I only marvel that he is not here--he seemed so eager for
the frolic----"

My voice was drowned in the roll of martial music; we took the places
assigned us, and the slow march began, ending in the Governor's set,
which was danced by eight couples--a curious dance, newly fashionable,
and called "En Ballet."