And amidst shouts of delighted laughter led by the Crow--in frozen
silence, Tristram held his wife's hand.

But after a second, the breeding in them both, as on their wedding
evening before the waiters, again enabled them to continue the comedy;
and they, too, laughed, and, with the Duke's assistance, got through the
rest of dinner, until they all rose and went out, two and two, the men
leading their ladies by the hand, as they had come in.

And if the cup had indeed contained a potion distilled by the Irish
sorceress Queen, the two victims could not have felt more passionately
in love.

But Tristram's pride won the day for him, for this one time, and not by
a glance or a turn of his head did he let his bride see how wildly her
superlative attraction had kindled the fire in his blood. And when the
dancing began, he danced with every other lady first, and then went off
into the smoking-room, and only just returned in time to be made to lead
out his "_Isolt_" in a final quadrille--not a valse. No powers would
have made him endure the temptation of a valse!

And even this much, the taking of her hand, her nearness, the sight of
the exquisite curves of her slender figure, and her floating hair,
caused him an anguish unspeakable, so that when the rest of the company
had gone, and good nights were said, he went up to his room, changed his
coat, and strode away alone, out into the night.