ts helped themselves, or waited till the servants came to them
with wooden carved trays. The particular characteristic of tea is the
freedom from restraint; it is not considered necessary to sit as at
dinner or supper, nor to do as others do; each pleases himself, and
there is no ceremony. Yet, although so near Aurora, Felix did not
succeed in speaking to her; Durand still engaged her attention whenever
other ladies were not talking with her. Felix found himself, exactly as
at dinner-time, quite outside the circle. There was a buzz of
conversation around, but not a word of it was addressed to him. Dresses
brushed against him, but the fair owners were not concerned even to
acknowledge his existence.

Pushed by the jostling crowd aside from the centre of the floor, Felix
presently sat down, glad to rest at last, behind the open door.
Forgotten, he forgot; and, looking as it were out of the present in a
bitter reverie, scarcely knew where he was, except at moments when he
heard the well-known and loved voice of Aurora. A servant after a while
came to him with a tray; he took some honey and bread. Almost
immediately afterwards another servant came and presented him with a
plate, on which was a cup of wine, saying, "With my lady's loving
wishes."

As in duty bound, he rose and bowed to the Baroness; she smiled and
nodded; the circle which had looked to see who was thus honoured, turned
aside again, not recognising him. To send a guest a plate with wine or
food is the highest mark of esteem, and this plate in especial was of
almost priceless value, as Felix saw when his confusion had abated. It
was of the ancient china, now not to be found in even the houses of the
great.

In all that kingdom but five perfect plates were known to exist, and two
of these were at the palace. They are treasured as heirlooms, and, if
ever broken, can never be replaced. The very fragments are rare; they
are often set in panels, and highly prized. The Baroness, glancing round
her court, had noticed at last the young man sitting in the obscure
corner behind the door; she remembered, not without some twinge of
conscience, that his house was their ancient ally and sworn
hearth-friend.

She knew, far better than the Baron, how deeply her daughter loved him;
better, perhaps, even than Aurora herself. She, too, naturally hoped a
higher alliance for Aurora; yet she was a true woman, and her heart was
stronger than her ambition. The trifle of the wine