"Yes, 'tis something so original to me, unconceived before, the hundreds congregated. I ask whence do they come, whither will they go?"
"Probably, most of them to supper at some celebrated restaurant," he said laughing, and changing the vein of her moralizing; "and some to regret, some to rejoice. What will your feeling be?"
"It must be rejoicing, for the regret has been seized upon. Did you hear that deep sigh near us?"
He turned; they were leaning near a loge door, and almost beside them stood a domino in brown, with blue ribbons. He glanced at the figure.
"Some pauvre delaissée," he said laughing; then turning towards the girl, cried, "do not sigh, il reviendra."
"Jamais," was the low reply, and the figure moved aside.
"Never mind her," he continued, turning towards Lady Dora; "but tell me, how will you rejoice, and why?"
"I am rejoicing, am I not?—I feel much amused."
'Twas true; the influence of the place was creeping over her cold nature. She was not the Lady Dora of any day yet in which he had seen her.
"You have not told me why you should be glad. You are silent—shall I tell you?"