e of the crowd and
the confusion. They huddled around Gabrielle and her escort, laughing and
chattering volubly. They hustled Cocardasse, they hustled Passepoil,
treading on their toes and tweaking their elbows, much to the indignation
of the Gascon and the Norman, each of whom tried angrily and unavailingly
to get hold of one of his nimble tormentors. In the jostling and
confusion, Cidalise slipped neatly between the two bravos, suddenly
abandoned by their plaguers; while Gabrielle, surrounded by the dexterous
gentlemen, was, against her will but very steadily, edged towards a side
alley. Cocardasse and Passepoil, drawing deep breaths such as Io may have
drawn when freed from her gadfly, looked down and saw, as they believed,
Gabrielle standing between them. The seeming Gabrielle moved on, on a
third journey round the Pond of Diana, and her escort accompanied her,
confident that all was well.

In the mean time, Gabrielle was appealing to the gentlemen who surrounded
her. "Gentlemen, stand aside!" she said, in a tone partly of entreaty,
partly of command.

At that moment Peyrolles came to her side and saluted her respectfully.
"Do not be alarmed. We come from him."

Gabrielle stared in amazement at the unfamiliar face.

Peyrolles bent to her ear and whispered: "From Lagardere."

Gabrielle gave a cry. "Ah! Where is he?"

Peyrolles pointed to the far end of the alley in which they were
standing. It was a dimmer alley than the others, for, in obedience to a
suggestion of Peyrolles, Oriol had been busily engaged in putting out the
lights. "At the end of this alley. He is waiting for you."

He offered her his arm as he spoke, and Gabrielle, believing indeed that
Lagardere had sent for her, accepted his guidance down the alley, and so
she disappeared from the noise and mirth and light and color of the
royal ball.

As the domino in pink and the dominos in black completed their third turn
round the Fountain of Diana, the domino in pink plucked off her mask,
and, looking up at her accompanying giants, showed to them, amazed, the
pretty, impudent, unfamiliar face of Cidalise. "May I ask, gentlemen, why
you follow me?" she said, merrily.

At the sight of her face, at the sound of her voice, at her question,
Cocardasse and Passepoil reeled as if they had been struck. Cidalise went
on: "I have many friends here, and no need for your company." Then she
laughed and ran away out of sight in a moment in the shifting crowd,
le