The first figure, patriotically named the "Flag of Krovitch," was danced by Stovik, Trusia and seven other couples all nearly related to royalty, each person waving a small silken flag bearing the Lion of their race.
Carter, from the throng, with hungry eyes saw but one wondrous form, supported on the arm of royalty, glide through the graceful maze. A lull came in the music and Stovik, bowing the Duchess to her seat, turned with evident relish to a coquettish brunette who had assured him that they were first cousins.
Having fulfilled the demands of Court etiquette in yielding first place to her sovereign, Trusia was now free to indulge any other preference for partners for the ensuing figures. The American glanced covetously toward the place where Sobieska and Zulka stood, expectantly awaiting her invitation. With a mild negation of her head she passed them, moving to where Carter was engaged talking to the Countess Muhlen-Sarkey. Seeing her approach, his heart beat with a foolish hope and his remarks to his matronly auditor, took on a perplexing shade of incoherence. Evidently Trusia shyly expected him to accept the courtesy; as through a myriad phantoms, where only she was real, he threaded his way to her side.
"You are the stranger within our gates," she explained as in rhythmic unison they drifted into the cadence of the waltz.
"Have I awakened," he inquired, "or is this part of the dream I had in the Boulevard S. Michel?"
"It must have been a dream, monsieur," she said with sad finality. "It is folly to encumber one's life with useless dreams."
"Your Grace wishes it?" he asked in halting syllables wrenched from a heavy heart.
"For your own happiness, now," she answered with a meaning nod toward the King.
"But," he pleaded, "it was such a beautiful dream."
"Dreams are—sometimes. Then we awake." He felt the slight tremor against his arm as she spoke.