"The same."
"Oh! present me by all means."
"And you, señor," said Doña Inez, returning with more interest to Alphonse, who had stood silently leaning against a column, while she walked his friend across the room, and seated him beside Doña Juana, "will you be satisfied with Doña Mercedes, who is almost as much admired as her sister; or shall we look further?"
"But you, so formed to shine—to eclipse all others—do you never dance, señorita?"
"Seldom or ever," she replied sadly. "I have no spirit for enjoyment now!"
"But wherefore? Can there be a cloud to dim the happiness of one so bright—so beautiful?" he answered, lowering his voice almost to a whisper.
"Alas!" she said, touched by the tone of interest with which he had spoken,—"is there not cause enough for sadness in the misfortunes of my beloved country; each day, each hour producing some fresh calamity? Who can be gay when we see our native land ravaged, our friends driven from their homes; when we know not how soon we may be banished from our own?"
"Deeply—sincerely do I sympathise with, and honour your feelings; but yet, for once, banish care, and let us enjoy the present hour like the rest."
"Indeed, I should prove a bad danseuse; it is so long since I have danced, that I am afraid I have almost forgotten how."
"But as I fear nothing except ill success, let me entreat."