The pale gray eyes of the little gray man looked very innocent and wondering.
"Certainly not, my dear! Why?"
"I'll tell you to-morrow." Then she broke into a laugh. "Well, it is midnight—and the Masquer has not appeared! I'm almost sorry."
The lights flickered off for a moment, then on again. The signal for unmasking!
The dancing ceased. From the whole room arose a babel of voices—cries of surprise, exclamations, merry laughter. Columbine removed her mask. An instant later Joseph Maillard approached them, chuckling to himself and looking hugely relieved.
"Ha, Lucie! I guessed you beneath the Columbine daintiness! Well, Jachin, it was a hoax after all, eh? Some confounded joke. Come down to the library in five minutes, will you? A meeting of the select circle, to discuss prohibition."
"Aren't you going to invite me, Uncle Joseph?" broke in Lucie, gaily.
"No, no, little one!" Maillard reproved her, laughingly. "Look not upon the silver cup at your age, my dear. Have you examined your favour yet?"
Remembering, the girl caught at her corsage. Cries of delight were arising on all sides as the favours were revealed—most handsome favours, even for Mardi Gras! From the heart of the rosebuds in her hand Lucie removed a brooch of old filigree work set with a group of pearls. She glanced about for Jachin Fell, but he had vanished with Maillard. A voice rose at her elbow:
"Mademoiselle, you are not less lucky than beautiful! Pearls to the pearl!"