"Why not? Tell me, since you pretend to read the future."
"Because she loves Lord Mowbray."
And, turning upon her heel, she danced away, humming some gypsy ditty.
That name filled the boy's soul with discouragement. Lord Mowbray! A cold-hearted libertine, the most corrupt, 'twas said, of all the Prince of Wales's new coterie. And it was towards him that Esther's heart had been attracted! And the passing sympathy which he had inspired in her was due, perhaps, to his resemblance to that man! His grief was profound; he had experienced nothing akin to it since the day in his babyhood when he had lost his precious goldpiece.
Revolving these facts in his mind, he had gone to the Pantheon. Why should he go to a masquerade? By what sentiment was he actuated? Some vague desire to console his aching heart by a vulgar adventure? The hope of meeting Esther there? No: rather that instinct which sometimes impels the downcast to air their woes in the midst of a crowd. And while he stood absently watching that wild scene, that dance of fools, a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
Rahab again! What would she with him, this compatriot of the Sphinx, with her fathomless black eyes and enigmatical smile?
"The one you love is here!" she breathed.
"What! Esther?"
"Brown domino with blue ribbons. Seek and you shall find. Is not that what you say?"