They take a few turns up and down the long piazza, Mrs. Carlyle's long robe trailing after her with a silken "swish, swish;" she makes no observation, does not even look at him.
Her large eyes wander away and linger upon the sea that is glorious beyond description with the radiance of the full moon mirrored in its deeps, and making a pathway of light across its restless waves.
She thinks vaguely that the golden streets of the celestial city must look like that.
"I hope you are enjoying the ball?" her liege lord observes interrogatively.
"As much as I ever enjoy anything," she returns listlessly.
"Which means——" he says, quickly, then checks himself abruptly.
She finishes his sentence with a dreary little sigh:
"That I do not enjoy anything very much!"
He looks down at her, wondering at the unusual pathos of her tone, and sees a face to match the voice.
Moonlight they say brings out the true expression of the soul upon the features.