The young man behind the head-dresses, now nodding viciously, moved nearer the front. Dressed in the rough though not unpicturesque fashion of the northern fisherman, a touch of color in his apparel lent to his bearing a note of romance the bold expression of his swarthy face did not belie. For a few moments he watched the girl; the changing eyes and lips, shadowed by hair that shone and flashed like bright burnished gold; then catching her gaze, the black eyes gleamed. An instant their eyes lingered; hers startled, puzzled.
"Where have I seen him?" My lady, in turning, paused to swing over her shoulders a glance.
"Whom?" asked her companion in the dance—a fair, handsome nobleman of slim figure and elegant bearing.
"That's just what I can't tell you," she answered, sweeping a courtesy that fitted the rhythm of the music. "Only a face I should remember!"
"Should?" The Marquis' look followed hers.
But the subject of their conversation, as if divining the trend of their talk, had drawn back.
"Oh, he is gone now," she answered.
"A malcontent, perhaps! One meets them nowadays."
"No, no! He did not look—"
"Some poor fellow, then, your beauty has entrapped?" he insinuated. "Humble admirer!"