In the gilded balcony opposite, the orchestra had now ceased playing; the whirl and noise of the dancers filled the immense momentary quiet. Then soft chimes from the great clock sounded midnight amid cries of, "Unmask! masks off, everybody!"
The Harlequin turned and drawing the black vizard from his face, bent low and saluted her hand; and she, responding gaily with a curtsey, looked up into the features of an utter stranger.
She stood silent a moment, the surprised smile stamped on her lips; then, in her turn, she slipped the mask from her eyes.
"Voila!" she cried. "C'est moi!"
After a moment he said, half to himself;
"I knew well enough that you must be unusual. But I hadn't any idea—any—idea——"
"Then—you are not disappointed in me, monsieur?"
"My only regret is that I had my hour, and wasted it. Those hours never sound twice for wandering harlequins."
"Poor Harlequin!" she said saucily—"I'm sorry, but even your magic can't recall a vanished hour! Poor, poor Harlequin! You were too generous to me!"
"And now you are going to forget me," he said. "That is to be my reward."