humble moments at this period of her life were rare,
and she drew herself up proudly, the blood of the
proudest race in Europe shaking angrily in her
veins. A moment later, in response to a power
greater than any within herself, she turned again.
The attention of the hosts and guests was riveted
upon the preliminary antics of the Indian dancers,
and Rezanov seized the opportunity to lean forward
unobserved and gaze at the girl whom it seemed to
him he saw for the first time in the full splendor of
her beauty. She wore a large mantilla of white
Spanish lace. In the fashion of the day it rose at
the back almost from the hem of her gown to de-
scend in a point over the high comb to her eyes.
The two points of the width were gathered at her
breast, defining the outlines of her superb figure,
and fastened with one large Castilian rose sur-
rounded by its mass of tiny sharp buds and dull
green leaves. As the familiar scent assailed Rez-
anov's nostrils they tingled and expanded. His
lids were lifted and his eyes glowing as he finally
compelled her glance, and her own eyes opened
with an eager flash; her lips parted and her should-
ers lost their haughty poise. For a moment their
gaze lingered in a perfect understanding; his ill-
humor vanished, and he leaned back with a compli-
mentary remark as Father Abella directed his atten-
tion to the most agile of the Indians.

The swart natives of both sexes with their thick