"Just a glimpse of the face that your mask so jealously veils."
"Oh!" cries Louise, somewhat disturbed.
"Remember," urges Don Caesar, "we shall never meet againBut 'twould be ungenerous to press my request," he adds, rising. "I must say farewell, then, with only the memory of a sweet voice to recall one of the few pleasant quarter-hours that I have known."
Some impulse, she can hardly explain what, seizes Louise. With trembling fingers she detaches her mask and uncovers a face suffused with blushes.
"I thought so!" murmurs Don Caesar, as his eyes take in the glory of that face, which is almost immediately veiled again.
"Thank you," he says, simply, and presses to his lips for an instant the hand she timidly gives him in parting.
He is gone, and Louise sinks back into her chair with beating heart, wondering whether she has been foolish, or unmaidenly, or indiscreet. She forgets to administer to Ashley the scolding he deserves for his long absence and receives abstractedly his explanation of a row in the wine-room and their detention by the crowd. Her gaze wanders about the ball-room in search of the graceful figure of Don Caesar de Bazan, but he has vanished.
CHAPTER XXII.
A FAIRY TALE THAT CAME TRUE.
Toward 10 o'clock Louise Hathaway decides that she
has witnessed enough of the brilliant panorama to warrant
her in returning to the hotel, and as Cyrus Felton is
plainly bored by a scene not attuned to his temperament,
Ashley hunts up their wraps, hails a carriage and they
are driven to the St. James.
"You will make a night of it, I suppose," Miss Hathaway remarks, as Ashley prepares to say good-night.
