So she drove off, resplendent, happy, animated, ready for the weaving of her spells.
Any good Christian, seeing her pass by with that triumphant smile on her lovely face, might have prayed their nearest and dearest should be kept from harm.
Lady Amelie never arrived very early at a ball. She liked to make her entree when most of the other guests were assembled. It was sweet to her to see how sorry and shy the ladies looked at her arrival, and how the faces of the men brightened. The first thing, of course, when she arrived at Hexham House, was the archduke. It was wonderful to watch the various phases of character that she could assume at will. With the archduke, she was the brilliant woman of the world, witty, sarcastic, adorable. He was enchanted with her; he declared that she combined all the charms of English and French women; he danced with her and would fain have lingered by her side, but that etiquette called him away.
Then Lady Amelie, already the belle of the ball, looked up, for Colonel Mostyn was standing before her, and by his side one of the handsomest and noblest young men she had ever seen. He introduced Basil Carruthers to his fate.
She looked in his face with a smile, and drawing aside a fold of her sumptuous dress, made room for him to sit near her.
He thought her even more dazzlingly beautiful than when he had seen her at the opera. The perfume of the white daphnes must have touched his senses as those most lovely eyes smiled into his; his brain seemed to reel; he was intoxicated with her beauty as some men are with the fumes of rare wine.
Colonel Mostyn lingered for a few minutes, then, well satisfied, went away, leaving Basil and Lady Amelie together. She had taken her seat under the shade of a magnificent mass of gorgeous, blooming flowers, with wondrous leaves and rich perfume. As she sat with her gleaming dress and jewels showing to perfection, from against this beautiful background, Basil was completely charmed. In all his life he had never even seen such a picture. She turned to him, when they were alone, with the sweetest smile on her lovely lips; her eyes seemed to rain down light into his.
"This is a brilliant scene, Mr. Carruthers; the duchess excels in the arrangement of her rooms."
He made some reply; he never quite knew what it was. It was enough for him to watch the charm of that irresistible face as she spoke. "Of course, everything depends on taste," she continued; "I quite expect you to laugh at me, but do you know what scene I should find much more brilliant than this?"
"I cannot imagine," he replied; "but I shall not laugh."