unnecessary. But a fine mass by Mozart -- it requires great skill as
well as power to render it. I admire no one so much as Mozart, and
especially his masses. I have been hearing a great many of them
lately."

"So we understood," said Lady Corisande, rather dryly, and looking about
her as if she were not much interested, or at any rate not much
gratified by the conversation.

Lothair felt he was not getting on, and he wished to get on, but he was
socially inexperienced, and his resources not much in hand. There was a
pause -- it seemed to him an awkward pause; and then Lady Corisande
walked away and addressed Lady Clanmorne.

Some very fine singing began at this moment; the room was hushed, no one
moved, and Lothair, undisturbed, had the opportunity of watching his
late companion. There was something in Lady Corisande that to him was
irresistibly captivating; and as he was always thinking and analyzing,
he employed himself in discovering the cause. "She is not particularly
gracious," he said to himself, "at least not to me; she is beautiful,
but so are others; and others, like her, are clever -- perhaps more
clever. But there is something in her brow, her glance, her carriage,
which intimate what they call character, which interests me. Six months
ago I was in love with her, because I thought she was like her sisters.
I love her sisters, but she is not the least like them."

The music ceased; Lothair moved away, and he approached the duke.

"I have a favor to ask your grace," he said. "I have made up my mind
that I shall not go back to Oxford this term; would your grace do me the