“Fenella the dumb girl,” murmured a very shy little maiden, whom the usher immediately announced as “An Ell of a dumb girl!” And so on, he went, making the most absurd as well as the most awful blunders with ladies’ and gentlemen’s names, as announcing the “Grand Turk” as Miss Ann Burke; for which last mistake the poor old man was not much to blame, as the subject was but a little fellow in a turban and long gown, whom Polonius naturally took to be a woman in a rather fantastic female dress. But when he thundered forth a “Musketeer” as a “mosquito,” and a “Crusader” as a “curiosity,” and “Joan of Arc” as “Master Johnny Dark,” he was quite unpardonable.
Meanwhile Sybil had entered the room, which was blazing with light and resounding with music. As the guests were now nearly all assembled, the gentlemen selected partners and opened the ball with a grand promenade to the music of the grand march in “Faust.”
Introductions are of course unnecessary at private masquerades, as well as impracticable at all such festivals; so when the ghastly mask “Death” came up and offered his skeleton arm to Sybil for the promenade, she unhesitatingly accepted it, supposing him all the while to be one of her invited guests.
But in joining the promenaders, he entered the circle at a point immediately in the rear of Harold the Saxon, and Edith the Fair. Death kept his eye on the two, and speaking in a low voice, inquired of his companion;
“Beautiful mask! though we may not yet discover ourselves to each other, yet we are at liberty to form a guess of the identity of our friends here?”
“Yes,” answered Sybil, in a low voice. She scarcely understood what she had been asked, or what she had answered; for her whole attention was absorbed in watching her husband and her rival, who were walking immediately before her—so close, yet so unconscious of her presence; so near in person, yet so far in spirit!
“—As, for instance, lovely mask,” continued Death, “I think I know this ‘Fair Edith’ as the beautiful blonde who is staying here with our hostess. Am I not right?”
“Yes,” answered Sybil, in the same absent and unconscious manner; for she really had not the slightest idea of what he had been talking about, but only a half-conscious instinct that the best and shortest, as well as the most courteous, way, in which to be rid of him was to agree with all he said. Her whole attention was still painfully absorbed by the pair before her.
“But as for the gentleman, Saxon Harold, I do not recognize him at all! However, he seems to be quite devoted to his fair Edith, as is most natural! Fair Edith was his best beloved! best beloved? Yes, beloved far beyond his queen!”
Sybil knew what he was saying now! She was listening to him with her ears, while she was watching the pair before her with her eyes.