"'Tis great sport and a game that requires some skill," said Constance. And thus they talked for one good hour, and in the adjoining room Janet fumed and fretted; for 'twas far past her child's bedtime.
"Such late hours are not conducive to youthful roundness and a clear colour," she grumbled. Constance yawned and declared she must retire; but she was thirsty and must have a drink, and yet she supposed she must do without, for all the maids and lackeys were abed.
"But the more I think of it, the more I want it. I will get it myself."
"And I will accompany thee, for I would like not to go alone in so great a house, when there is no one astir," said Katherine.
They started forth adown the stairs; and following silent, noiseless like a wraith was Janet, expectant, eager; for she felt she was to see the opening of a great battle. Constance led the way, carrying a taper. As they traversed some passage, their ears caught the sound of music. They listened a moment, then Constance proposed they snuff the candle and draw near the sound; "for very like the beaux were having an orgy," she said. And Katherine, full of adventure and deeming it a fine, young lady's trick—she had heard talk of such things among the older girls at the convent—opined "'twas the thing to do." And they followed the passage until an arched and curtained doorway but screened them from that 'twas within the grand saloon, and Constance made bold to draw aside a finger-breadth of the sweeping curtain and peep within.
"Ah! ah! 'tis a beauteous sight!" and she turned from what she saw and drew the curtain to a generous opening; and the two with heads together looked through.
Every candle had been snuffed and through the great north window came the rays from the light in the forked tree that fell like moonlight athwart the saloon. In the centre of the broad gleam was a sylph-like form, keeping time to the music in a sort of phantom style of movement; twisting, shimmering folds that appeared to effuse a scintillation of opal shades. 'Twas the chaconne; slow, graceful and full of romance, the full major lifting and seeming to float, at last dying imperceptibly into the minor passacaille. About were seated, carelessly and after the manner of men who had pulled at the bottle for hours in the hunting field and were now somewhat overcome by warmth and ennui, beaux old and young, 'suaging their appetite of mouth and eye by wine and women.
"'Tis the King sets the pace!" said one, close to the curtain.
"Egad!" said another. "He not only sets it, but carries it along. He has fine wenches at his beck and call." 'Twas evident 'twas but the beginning of revelry; a sort of bacchanalian prelude to what might come later. No sooner was this dance finished than another began. Some lithe creature came forth to dance, in bright scarlet, the passacaglia. The glasses were refilled and the noise became more boisterous; and the scandal more flagrant. The candles were set aglow again and tables were brought for those wishing to gamble. And one richly dressed and full of wine sprung upon a table and held aloft a glass and called forth:
"Here, here is to his Lordship of Crandlemar and to a long life of free and easy celibacy." Now 'twas said Lord Cedric could drink more without becoming undignified than any other man of his company, but it seemed he gave himself to the spirit of the moment and had drunk deep. When the young blood upon the table offered the toast, Cedric sprung as if shot to the table, where he staggered and would have fallen, had it not been for the youth who bore him up. Holtcolm, in his drunken anxiety for his neighbour's steadiness, stood near him and with tender, maudlin solicitude began to flick the grains of bergamot scented snuff from the lace of Lord Cedric's steenkirk. At the same time from the glass he held there spilled on his Lordship's brocaded coat of blue and silver a good half-pint of wine. Cedric upon being balanced had forgotten what he wanted to say, and turned to his supporter.