“King of Terrors!” she said with assumed levity, “I do not waltz, but I am tired of sitting here. Give me your arm to the other end of the room, and even all around the room, perhaps.”
“Spirit of Fire! it will not be the first time that I have had the honor of waiting on you or following in your track,” said Death, gallantly.
“True; Fire has often preceded Death as his agent,” assented Sybil.
“Say rather, that Death has often followed Fire as her servant.”
“Enough of this. We seem to be well paired, at least. Let us get up and walk.”
Death bowed and offered his arm, and Fire arose and took it. And they walked around the room, keeping outside the circle of the waltzers and near the seats by the walls. But as they walked, many exclamations of admiration, wonder, and awe struck their ears.
“Splendid creature! She moves like a spirit or a flame,” exclaimed one.
“What a contrast to her companion! She all life and light, he all darkness and death.”
“It looks, as they walk side by side, as if she had burned him up and consumed him to a skeleton of charred bones,” said another.
“Horrible! Hush!” imperatively commanded a young lady, whose will, if it did not enforce silence, modified expression.