"Nay," said I, "in your absence would you have me glad? However, if
Moore's mythology be true--Beauty loves Folly the better for borrowing
something from Reason; but, come, this is a place not for the grave, but
the giddy. Let us join the waltzers."

"I am engaged."

"I know it! do you think I would dance with any woman who was not
engaged?--there would be no triumph to one's vanity in that case. Allons,
ma belle, you must prefer me to an engagement;" and so saying, I led off
my prize.

Her intended partner was Mr. V--; just as we had joined the dancers, he
spied us out, and approached with his long, serious, respectful face; the
music struck up, and the next moment poor V. was very nearly struck down.
Fraught with the most political spite, I whirled up against him;
apologized with my blandest smile, and left him wiping his mouth, and
rubbing his shoulder, the most forlorn picture of Hope in adversity, that
can possibly be conceived.

I soon grew wearied of my partner, and leaving her to fate, rambled into
another room. There, seated alone, was Lady Roseville. I placed myself
beside her; there was a sort of freemasonry between her and myself; each
knew something more of the other than the world did, and we read his or
her heart, by other signs than words. I soon saw that she was in no
mirthful mood; so much the better--she was the fitter companion for a
baffled aspirant like me.

The room we were in was almost deserted, and finding ourselves
uninterrupted, the stream of our conversation flowed into sentiment.