“Why?” her manner made me ask. Then I followed her eyes and saw the reason of her whispered caution. The tall Rittmeister was waltzing with the Princess. They passed quite close to us. He was talking to her with an earnestness far beyond the usual ball-room trifling, or even flirtation.
“A serious affair.”
“Mr. Tyrrell, you are hopelessly indiscreet. Ah!”
Suddenly the band stopped. The King had risen abruptly and was evidently about to retire. The musicians stood up and played the National Hymn. The Princess Casilde went quickly to her father, a procession was formed, and having interchanged bows with the company the royal party retired.
There was to be a dance or two more; and, as though relieved by the departure of royalty, every one seemed to become more animated, smiles were now laughter, and the excessive, almost oppressive decorum of the dance vanished.
My partner had hurried away with a bewitching “Auf Wiedersehen!” to join the royal party. Left alone, I betook myself to the corner of the ball-room where Herr Eilhardt was to find me.
CHAPTER V
THE DESERTED BALL-ROOM
If this State ball did not degenerate exactly into a romp, it grew more free and easy as I sat watching it and waiting for the Oberkammerer. Von Orsova seemed to have had enough of dancing—he was evidently a good deal run after—and was now parading about with a dashing, middle-aged woman, corresponding to the skittish colonels’ wives we see in our garrison towns. They passed me, she chattering and laughing, he rather bored, as it struck me, and strolled off towards the music-room. Then I noticed the two men, Szalay and D’Urban, who had been with Von Lindheim and me in the gardens. They were talking earnestly together. I wondered if they, too, took the same serious view of the situation as my friend.