who was very carefully masked, and attended only by a maid, baffled the curiosity of all observers.  She sat a little back in her box, so that the full blaze of light should not fall upon her, and a large black lace veil, which was loosely fastened under her chin, covered her head so effectually that it was impossible to make out even the colour of her hair.  Her dress was rich and elegant in the extreme, but sombre in hue, and in her hand she held a handsome fan made of black feathers, with a tiny looking-glass in the centre.  A great many curious glances were directed at her, which manifestly made her uneasy, and she shrank still farther back in her box to avoid them; but the orchestra soon struck up a merry tune, and attracted all eyes and thoughts to the curtain, which was about to rise, so that the mysterious fair one was left to her enjoyment of the animated scene in peace.  They began with “Lygdamon et Lydias,” in which Leander, who played the principal part, and wore a most becoming new costume, was quite overwhelmingly handsome.  His appearance was greeted by a murmur of admiration and a great whispering among the ladies, while one unsophisticated young creature, just emancipated from her convent-school, exclaimed rapturously, aloud, “Oh! how charming he is!” for which shocking indiscretion she received a severe reprimand from her horrified mama, that made her retire into the darkest corner of the box, covered with blushes and confusion.  Yet the poor girl had only innocently given expression to the secret thought of every woman in the audience, her own dignified mother included; for, really, Leander was delightfully, irresistibly handsome as Lygdamon—­a perfect Apollo, in the eyes of those provincial dames.  But by far the most agitated of them all was the masked beauty; whose heaving bosom, trembling hand—­betrayed by the fan it held—­and eager attitude—­leaning breathlessly forward and intently watching Leander’s every movement—­would inevitably have borne witness to her great and absorbing interest in him, if anybody had been observing her to mark her emotion; but fortunately for her all eyes were turned upon the stage, so she had time to recover her composure.  Leander was surpassing himself in his acting that night, yet even then he did not neglect to gaze searchingly round the circle of his fair admirers, trying to select the titled dames, and decide which one among them he should favour with his most languishing glances.  As he scrutinized one after another, his eyes finally reached the masked lady, and at once his curiosity was on the qui vive—­here was assuredly something promising at last; he was convinced that the richly dressed, graceful incognita was a victim to his own irresistible charms, and he directed a long, eloquent, passionate look full at her, to indicate that she was understood.  To his delight—­his rapturous, ecstatic delight—­she answered his appealing glance by a very slight bend of the head, which was full of significance, as if she would thank him for his penetration.  Being thus happily brought en rapport, frequent glances were exchanged throughout the play, and even little signals also, between the hero on the stage and the lady in her box.