If there is a spot that is touched it is his utter admiration for madame. She treats him as if he were still in the tender realms of youth; she calls him Eugene, and asks pretty favors of him in a half-caressing manner that is not to be misunderstood. She puts the years between them in a very distinct manner. She will have no "philandering." He belongs to the young girls. She dances with him several times, and then chooses partners for him. She is regal to-night, that goes without saying. Her velvet is a pale lavender, that in certain lights looks almost frost white, and it fits her perfect figure admirably.
Laura has been disappointed in the wish of her soul, her grand stroke.
"Floyd," she said, when he came down, looking the faultless gentleman, "you must open the dancing with Madame Lepelletier. You can walk through a quadrille, so you need not begin with excuses. I have arranged the set."
"In this you must excuse me, Laura," he answers, with quiet decision. "I have not danced for years, and, under the circumstances——"
"You don't mean you are going to turn silly, just because—your wife is not here?" and her authority dominates his. "It would not be decent for her to dance if she were here! We never even went to a dancing party after papa's death, until—well, not until this autumn, and I wouldn't marry before six months had elapsed. Then, I have everything planned, I have even spoken to madame. O Floyd!" and seeing his face still unrelenting, her eyes fill with tears.
"My dear Laura——" A woman's slow tears move him inexpressibly, while noisy crying angers him, and he bends to kiss her. "Do not feel hurt, my child. Command me in anything else, but this I cannot do."
"Oh, I know, she made you promise, the mean, jealous little thing!"
"Hush," he commands. "She asked no favors and I made no promises. She would not care if I danced every set."
"That is just it!" cries Laura, angrily. "She doesn't care, she doesn't know——"
"She is my wife!" He walks away, so indignant the first moment that he all but resolves to return to Violet, then his duty as host presents itself. He and the professor and a few others keep outside of the magic circle, but no one would suspect from his demeanor that he had been ruffled for an instant. There is enough enjoyment in the rambles about the lawn and smoking on the balcony. It is the perfection of an early autumn night; in fact, for two or three days it has been unusually warm.