The ugly old woman thus addressed beamed with delight, and moving up the stairs pushed her way to the marble balustrade of the balcony. She watched the later arrivals, and commented freely to her acquaintance on their dresses and deportments; she also gave a little information about each one, which would have been ill-natured even had it not been untrue; but though she told her friends many things, she did not mention that she had had to make Tranta write and threaten to desert the President's party unless she was asked to the ball, and that even this had failed to procure an invitation for her daughter, an unfortunate girl who added a bad complexion to the family features.
Louvet came next, looking anxiously at the crowd of faces which gazed from the landing, and imagining bombs and daggers at every step. He regarded Lucile with apprehension, but her smile seemed to give him courage and he mingled with the throng.
Then Sir Richard Shalgrove, the British Ambassador, whose genial and cheery face displayed an innocence which contrasted with his reputation, advanced to make his bow. The strained relations between Laurania and Great Britain seemed to disappear in that comprehensive salutation. Lucile engaged him for a moment in conversation; she pretended to know little or nothing. "And when," she asked merrily, "do we declare war?"
"Not until after I have had the pleasure of the third waltz, I hope," said the Ambassador.
"How annoying! I wanted so much to dance it with you."
"And you will not?" he asked in great concern.
"Dare I plunge two nations into war for the sake of a waltz?"
"Had you my inducement you would not hesitate," he replied gallantly.
"What, to precipitate hostilities! What have we done? What is your great inducement to fight?"
"Not to fight,—to dance," said Sir Richard with a little less than his usual assurance.