As the curtained door swung behind them, Jasper Vermont, alias Mephistopheles--his scarlet costume now changed to ordinary evening dress, and covered with a long black domino, similar to that which Ada had donned--shot a sharp glance after them; then, with a sinister smile, he left the room by another exit, and made his way into the grounds. Keeping well within the shadow of the trees and shrubs, he crouched down, directly under the terrace where Adrien had led Constance; here, motionless and scarcely breathing, he listened with eager ears.
"It is hot," said Constance, removing her mask, and letting the wrap fall back from her shoulders.
"All the more reason you should be careful," said Adrien, replacing it gently.
She smiled, as she gazed up at him.
"You look very tired," she said softly. "This ball has been a strain on you, has it not?"
"Not more than usual," he returned. "At any rate, it will be my last for some time to come."
"Your last!" she echoed, looking up at him with wide, startled eyes. "What do you mean, Adrien?"
"I am going away after to-night," he said hoarsely; for the sight of her beauty was goading him almost to despair.
"Going away!" she hardly breathed the words; her face had paled in the moonlight, till it looked almost unearthly. "Why?"
"You ask me why?" he murmured, his forehead damp with the force of his emotion. "You, who know how I love you--worship your very shadow!"