er. She was not
as fine as the diamond, but she was very fine, and, had I been in a less
ecstatic frame of mind, I might have envied the homage she received from
all the men, not excepting him upon whose arm I leaned. Later, there was
no one in the world I envied less.

The ball was a private and very elegant one. There were some notable
guests. One gentleman in particular was pointed out to me as an
Englishman of great distinction and political importance. I thought
him a very interesting man for his years, but odd and a trifle
self-centered. Though greatly courted, he seemed strangely restless
under the fire of eyes to which he was constantly subjected, and only
happy when free to use his own in contemplation of the scene about him.
Had I been less absorbed in my own happiness I might have noted sooner
than I did that this contemplation was confined to such groups as
gathered about the lady with the diamond. But this I failed to observe
at the time, and consequently was much surprised to come upon him, at
the end of one of the dances, talking With this lady in an animated and
courtly manner totally opposed to the apathy, amounting to boredom, with
which he had hitherto met all advances.

Yet it was not admiration for her person which he openly displayed.
During the whole time he stood there his eyes seldom rose to her face;
they lingered mainly-and this was what aroused my curiosity--on the
great fan of ostrich plumes which this opulent beauty held against
her breast. Was he desirous of seeing the great diamond she thus
unconsciously (or was it consciously) shielded from his gaze? It was
possible, for, as I continued to note him, he suddenly bent toward
her and as quickly raised himself again with a look which was quite
inexplicable to me. The lady had shifted her fan a moment and his eyes
had fallen on the gem.

The next thing I recall with any definiteness was a tete-a-tete
conversation which I held with my lover on a certain yellow divan at the
end of one of the halls.

To the right of this divan rose a curtained recess, highly suggestive of
romance, called "the alcove." As this alcove figures prominently in my
story, I will pause here to describe it.

It was originally intended to contain a large group of statuary which
our host, Mr. Ramsdell, had ordered from Italy to adorn his new house.
He is a man of original ideas in regard to such matters, and in this
instance had gone so far as to have this end of the