We, reader, have seen the figure before. But so distinctly was the skeleton of the human body painted in white upon that tight-fitting black suit, that the illusion was perfect; and the wonder was not great that the two poor ignorant servants trembled and gasped, and shrank back. "Why, if you were not afraid of the Devil, why should you shrink from Death?" demanded the stranger: "Grinning horribly a ghastly smile." "I--was not--afraid; only it gives one such a turn!" replied Joe, with chattering teeth. "Then direct me to a dressing-room," ordered the stranger. "But--are you--a gentleman's skeleton, or a lady's?" gasped Joe. "I am neither. I am Death," curtly replied the stranger. "Lord save us!" ejaculated Miss Tabby. "Are you going to direct me to a dressing-room?" "Yes, sure, as soon as I know what sort of a one you want. Are you a gentleman's death, or a lady's?" faltered Joe, who could by no means command his nerves. "I am a lady's death!" replied the stranger, in a tone so grim that Miss Tabby ejaculated: "Heaven have mercy on us!" Joe was about to direct the stranger to the ladies' dressing-rooms, when his attention was suddenly diverted by the arrival of a crowd of "knights," "Indians," "Welsh bards," "grisettes," "Greek slaves," et caetera, who demanded immediate service. The usher divided them according to their sexes, and then noticed that the ghastly figure of "Death" joined the gentlemen's party and accompanied them to their dressing-room. CHAPTER XVI. ON THE WATCH. False--from the head's crown to the foot's sole--false! To think I never knew it until now, Nor saw thro' him e'en when I saw him smile; Saw that he meant this when he wed me, When he caressed me! Yes, when he kissed my lips!--BROWNING While this busy scene was being enacted below stairs, equally important, if quieter dramas were being performed in the dressing-rooms up-stairs, where the maskers were putting the last finishing touches to their toilets. In Mrs. Berners' dressing-room, Sybil, the queen of the festival, was alone. Mr. Berners, who had assumed the character of "Harold, the last of the Saxon Kings," had already completed his toilet and gone below stairs, as he said, to take his place near the door to welcome his guests as they should enter the drawing-room. So Sybil was alone in her apartment. She also had just completed her toilet, and now she stood before the large cheval mirror, surveying the reflection of her figure from its clear surface, where it looked like a framed picture.