“In the dark!  But I could see very well who it was, though I did not know her so well as he did, and was so much farther off.”

“I am afraid you are in the dark, too, a little as yet,” said Lady Gayland, (tapping her gently with her fan.) “But, tell me, did you not admire the singing, though you could not understand the story.”

“Why, I should, perhaps, if I had known the language; but even then they seemed to me more like birds, than men and women singing words.  I like a song that I can make out every word that’s said.”

“The curtain then rose for the ballet; at first, Lucy was delighted with the scenery and pageantry, for the spectacle was grand and imposing.  But at length the resounding plaudits announced the entree of the perfect Taglioni.  Lucy was a little astonished at her costume upon her first appearance.  She was attired as a goddess, and goddesses’ gowns are somewhat of the shortest, and their legs rather au naturel; but when she came to elicit universal admiration by pointing her toe, and revolving in the slow pirouette, Lucy, from the situation in which she sat was overpowered with shame at the effect; and whilst Lady Gayland, with her longnette fixed on the stage, ejaculated, ’Beautiful! inimitable!’ the unpractised Lucy could not help exclaiming, ’O that is too bad!  I cannot stay to see that!’ and she turned her head away blushing deeply.”

“Is your ladyship ill?” exclaimed Lord Stayinmore.  “Castleton, I am afraid Lady Castleton feels herself indisposed.”

“Would you like to go?” kindly inquired Castleton.

“O so much!” she answered.

“Are you ill, my dear?” asked Lady Gayland.

“Oh, no!” she said.

“Then you had better stay, it is so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lord Castleton is kind enough to let me go.”

(They get into the carriage.)

“And how do you find yourself now, my dear Lucy?” tenderly inquired Castleton, as the carriage drove off.

“Oh, I am quite well, thank you.”

“Quite well! are you?  What was it, then, that was the matter with you?”

“There was nothing the matter with me, it was that woman.”

“What woman? what can you mean?  Did you not say that you were ill; and was not that the reason that we hurried away?”

“No!  YOU said I was ill; and I did not contradict you, because you tell me that in the world, as you call it, it is not always right to give the real reason for what we do; and therefore I thought, perhaps, that though of course you wished me to come away, you liked to put it upon my being ill.”

“Of course I wished you to come away!  I was never more unwilling to move in all my life; and nothing but consideration for your health would have induced me to stir.  Why should I have wished you to come away?”

“Why, the naked woman,” stammered Lucy.

“What can you mean?”