But before opening that crystal door, all rusted iron and cobwebs from this inner side, Rosalie stood still to think. Then she pushed it open, and emerged into the brilliant hall, still silent. From here she passed toward the staircase leading down to the supper-room, where all the guests were now assembled.
But to return to them.
There was no lack of merriment throughout the length of tables. But as the supper progressed, and people became accustomed to their surroundings, general comments were made upon a long and double-folded curtain of heavy material that hung from floor to ceiling at the lower end of the vast chamber beside the staircase.
There was present at that supper a young girl just out that season—as giddy, as merry, and full of happy spirits as one unknown to care or saddened thoughts can ever be.
And to close a spirited discussion with some as young and thoughtless as herself, just as the feast was ending, she left her place amidst a laughing silence, and ran to the farther upper end of the table, where Mr. Barringcourt sat beside the Princess. With the happy assurance of youth never rebuffed, she accosted him.
“I come,” said she, still laughing, “to plead on the side of our religion. They say that dismal curtain bears a resemblance, and a very striking one, to the crimson one within the temple. Will you not contradict them?”
He looked across the room toward it “One’s black and the other’s red,” he said, and smiled.
“Yes; but we were discussing what might be beyond,” and her face was demure, though her eyes were sparkling with merriment.
“With what result?” said he.
“We all grew curious. Princess, will you be curious, too?”