"

"Nay, I would not go."

"Ah, then, enjoy the present and think of moments and not cycles. Here
thou shalt sit on this low divan, behind this tripod of roses; there,
thou canst hear what they whisper when the music ceases." They sat
ensconced in flowers and drapings of satin brocade, looking down
upon splendidly and wonderfully dressed princes and dukes, lords
and counts, with their ladies dancing the gavotte. There was the
perfection of beauty and stateliness and romance. The few unmasked
faces were smiling and bright with powder and rouge; dainty hands
flourished fans; and there was the low click of high heels upon
the parquetry. Jewels flashed and brocades gleamed; a shimmering
accompaniment completing the symmetry of the brilliant dance. It was
not long before Janet called her companion's attention to the lord of
the castle. He was dancing now with a very beautiful woman, even more
so than the one before.

"He steps lightly, being so bandied. Now I think on it, 'twere
possible his legs were cushioned thus to hide a senile thinness!
'Tis human nature when badgered by excess of limit to flounder into
limitless excess. Look upon the Burgomaster at thy feet with a surfeit
of good round legs, he is unfortunate for being in excess, he cannot
whittle down. 'Tis a queer being with whom he dances,--here comes a
queen, see, she stops beneath thee,--sh--'Constance,' my lord devil
calls her, 'Constance'; what thinkest thou, is she not beautiful?"

"See the bones in her neck, Janet, they protrude like pulpy blisters,
and she looks flat of chest for a waist so abbreviated."

"I see thine eyes are ever upon nature, and 'tis best if thy gaze can
penetrate the heart as well."

"Surely we have intuition, and I like not Constance."

"How about my lord with the rose?"

"I like him."

"Oh, impressionable youth! 'thou art the gilded sand from which the
kiss of a wave washes every impress.' Tune thy myriad atoms to imitate
the rock, and gird thyself with strength to meet the battery of
onrushing breakers that grind against thee! Be careful, my Lambkin,
fall not in love with the first handsome face thou seest." The music
ceased; there was naught of sound, but a babble of voice and soft, gay
laughter. The guests passed up the grand stairway, and between the
pillars that guarded the entrance to the vaulted gallery beyond.
Immediately beneath, where Katherine and her nurse sat, were Constance
and her Mephistophelian consort. The