“No,” answered the General, smiling; “not exactly maids of honor, although each holds position at the Court. The tall brunette, with the bold dark eyes, and the tiara of diamonds flashing above her dark hair, is the Countess Brooke, one of the most handsome women and, I might perhaps add, credited with being one of the most dangerous intrigantes of the Court. She has a clever and a dangerous tongue and is sometimes styled ‘the Babbling Brooke,’ after a certain famous beauty of one of the old-time English Courts, whom this lady in many respects strongly resembles. You see, history repeats itself.”
“And the other two ladies?”
“The shorter brunette, with the heavy dark brows, the brilliant red lips and the big brown eyes is the Baroness Maquehaye, a great leader of fashion and a wonderful entertainer. Her garden-party of last Spring is still talked about. The tall, rather plump blonde lady, on the other side of the Countess, is Lady Hadley-Barton, famed for her social ambitions. Ah, I see there is going to be an addition to the party.”
As the General spoke two army officers, each clad in the dashing uniform of the Imperial Guard, advanced and greeted the ladies. One of them was a man of magnificent physique, tall, and lithe, with clear, flashing blue eyes and a sweeping blond moustache; the other was shorter, dark, with kindly brown eyes and of sinewy, well-knit figure.
“A pair of remarkably clean-cut, fine-looking men,” commented Kearns, “although I have no doubt that uniform helps matters along a good deal. Who are they?”
“You see in them,” answered General Mainwarren, “two of the bravest and most dashing young officers of the army. Both of them performed deeds of daring in the late war with Russia which made their names ring throughout the country and made them the objects of the usual popular idolatry which the American people have ever been wont to lavish, for a short time at least, upon their heroes. See that peculiar-shaped star which each wears among the decorations on his breast. It’s the Star of Columbia, the most coveted decoration of all the many decorations which this Court boasts. It’s the decoration which is conferred only for special valor in actual face of the enemy. Both these men wear it and both have earned it. They’ve been recently ordered to Court to join the Imperial Guard. Here they’re show-pieces. Shame to it that gallant soldiers should not be put to better uses! The taller of the two is Captain Stanley Mortimer; the other, Captain Ralph Swords.”
The two officers talked for some time in lively strain with the ladies of the party, the brunt of the conversation being borne by the Countess Brooke, who leveled several witching glances at the tall guardsman. Then Captain Mortimer offered his arm to Dorothy and, followed by Captain Swords escorting Beatrice, he led the way to the dancing-floor. From the orchestra came the opening strains of a waltz.
Although the dancers were already taking their positions upon the floor, Beatrice insisted upon stopping as they passed her father’s party and, following her usual impetuous methods, hurried general presentations ensued. Miss Brandon smiled upon the Professor and murmured a few pleasant words; and Captain Mortimer extended a frank, soldierly invitation to Kearns to visit him at his quarters next day. Then the two couples passed on to mingle a moment later in the maze of waltzers.
More bewitching grew the sensuous strains of the waltz, faster and faster flew the steps of the dancers, as Captain Stanley Mortimer, holding Dorothy lightly clasped, circled the floor. He had caught her step to a nicety and they whirled in perfect rhythmic unison. Her breath was upon his cheek, a loosened strand of her hair touched his lips, her form nestled more closely in his arms. As the last bars of the music died away, her eyes met his in one fleeting, upward glance—half coy, half enraptured—and he slowly bent his head in a motion that was almost a caress.
But as they danced, a pair of black eyes, flashing under heavy dark brows, had watched with unfriendly glances, and the dainty lace handkerchief between the jeweled fingers of the Countess Brooke was defaced by two jagged rents.