“The second dance is beginning. It is a waltz. Shall we——”
Pauline’s manner was odd, not to say perplexing. She hesitated; nay, Wilfrid fancied he could detect a look of fear in her eyes; then she gave a grateful smile, and the next moment to the sound of sweetest melody she was floating around in the dreamy mazes of a waltz, the very dance in which Wilfrid had no superior.
The waltz is the most voluptuous of dances, and Pauline drank fully of its charms. She had no need to look where she was going. Wilfrid’s touch, strong yet tender, steered her gracefully and lightly through the moving throng. The ballroom, the lights, the dancers—all seemed to vanish. She and Wilfrid were the sole beings in a Paradise of their own. With her lips parted into an unconscious smile she yielded herself to the delicious spell of intoxication; her eyes half-closed, she rested on his arm, swaying to and fro on a billowy sea of pleasure. Could her wish at that moment have had its fulfilment this dance would have lasted for ever.
Wilfrid, to his shame be it said, felt little of this fascination; his pulse beat, perhaps, two or three above the normal; no more. His attention to Pauline was more apparent than real; his mind was dwelling on the Duchess, and whenever any lady, golden-haired and blue-eyed, floated past, she was sure to receive from him a scrutinising glance.
Then came a sudden surprise.
“Baroness!”
The word, though but faintly whispered, was nevertheless heard not only by the person for whose ear it was intended, but also by Wilfrid. The voice was a man’s, and it was marked, so Wilfrid thought, by an intonation expressive of reproach at her evident pleasure in the waltz.
Wilfrid looked around, curious to discover who had been the speaker. Among the masked forms circling about them was that very Crusader whom he half-suspected to be Ouvaroff. Doubtless it was he who had spoken; at any rate, the voice was not unlike that of the Prince.
He glanced at his partner, but Pauline, though conscious that Wilfrid had heard the name, made no remark, and Wilfrid, responsive to her mood, refrained from comment. It seemed, however, a safe conclusion to draw that the speaker, whether Ouvaroff or not, was the man in whom Pauline was interested, and that he had recognised her by the sign upon her sleeve.