"To see me here! It appears that they have given the scene-painter a
free ticket, and I assume that it carries permission to dance, provided
he does not display in an unseemly manner the patch in the rear of his
best tunic."

He turned his head in a serio-comic effort to stare down his back.
Dorothea admitted to herself that he made a decidedly handsome fellow
in his blue uniform with red facings and corded epaulettes; nor does a
uniform look any the worse for having seen a moderate amount of service.

"But Mademoiselle was in a--what do you call it?--a brown study, which
I interrupted."

"I was wondering why General Rochambeau had, not yet come to speak with
me."

"I can account for it, perhaps; but first you must answer my question,
Mademoiselle. Are you not dancing tonight?"

"That will depend, sir, on whether I am asked or no."

She said it almost archly, on the moment's impulse; and, the words out,
felt that they were over-bold. But she did not regret them when her
eyes met his. He was offering his arm, and she found herself joining in
his laugh--a happy, confidential little laugh. Dorothea cast a nervous
glance towards her brother, but Endymion's back was turned. She saw
that her partner noted the look, and half-defiantly she nodded towards
the gallery as the French musicians struck into a jolly jigging quick-
step with a crash at every third bar.