e piece of flawless Dresden on this
morning, she was as cold, her features were as unmarked by any human
pity. Ah! so different an Elisabeth, this, from the one I had last seen
at the East Room, with throat fluttering and cheeks far warmer than
this cool rose pink. But, changed or not, the full sight of her came as
the sudden influence of some powerful drug, blotting out consciousness
of other things. I could no more have refrained from approaching her
than I could have cast away my own natural self and form. Just as she
reached the top of the broad marble stairs, I spoke.

"Elisabeth!"

Seeing that there was no escape, she paused now and turned toward me. I
have never seen a glance like hers. Say not there is no language of the
eyes, no speech in the composure of the features. Yet such is the Sphinx
power given to woman, that now I saw, as though it were a thing
tangible, a veil drawn across her eyes, across her face, between her
soul and mine.

Elisabeth drew herself up straight, her chin high, her eyes level, her
lips just parted for a faint salutation in the conventions of the
morning.

"How do you do?" she remarked. Her voice was all cool white enamel. Then
that veil dropped down between us.

She was there somewhere, but I could not see her clearly now. It was not
her voice. I took her hand, yes; but it had now none of answering clasp.
The flush was on her cheek no more. Cool, pale, sweet, all white now,
armed cap-a-pie with indifference, she looked at me as formally as
though I were a remote acquaintance. Then she would have passed.

"Elisabeth," I began; "I am just back. I have not had time--I have had
no leave from you to come to see you--to ask you--to explain--"

"Explain?" she said evenly.

"But surely you can not believe that I--"

"I only believe what seems credible, Mr. Trist."

"But you promised--that very morning you agreed--Were you out of your
mind, that--"

"I was out of my mind that morning--but not that evening."

Now she was _grande demoiselle_, patrician, superior. Suddenly I became
conscious of the dullness of my own garb. I cast a quick glance over my
figure, to see whether it had not shrunken.

"But that is not it, Elisabeth--a girl may not allow a man so much as
you promised me, and then forget that promise in a day. It _was_ a
promise between us. _You_ agreed that I should come; I did come. You had
given your word. I say, was that the way to treat me, coming as I did?"

"I f