Again, as she flashed like fire through and through the mazes of the dance, her elegant figure, her graceful motions, and her dazzling, flame-like dress was the general subject of enthusiastic admiration. It was impossible but that some of this praise should reach the ears of its object. And equally impossible that her own name should not be coupled with it. So Sybil at length discovered that her identity was known, to some persons certainly--to how many she could not even conjecture. Suddenly she resolved to try an experiment. She turned to her partner and inquired: "Do you know me?" "Not until you permit me to do so, Madam," answered the Black Prince, very courteously. "Your reply was worthy of a knight and prince! So I permit you to recognize me," said Sybil. "Then you are our beautiful hostess; and I am happy to greet you by your real name, Mrs. Berners," said the Black Prince. "Thanks," answered Sybil. "I saw that many persons knew me, and I wished to ascertain whether you were among their number, and how you and others found me out." "Some diviner of spirits," laughed the Black Prince, "divined you, not only _through_ but _by_ your costume, in its correspondence with your character. And as soon as he made this discovery he hastened to promulgate it. Then I, for one, perceived at once that the splendid 'Fire Queen' could be no other than a daughter of 'Berners of the Burning Heart.' And now, Madam! am I permitted to introduce myself by the name I bear in this humdrum world of reality, or has your penetration already rendered such an introduction unnecessary?" "It is unnecessary. I have just recognized--Captain Pendleton," replied Sybil. The captain bowed low. And then, to the "forward two" of the leader of the band, he led his partner up to meet their _vis-a-vis_, to "balance," "pass," "change," and go through all the figures of the dance. And so the dances succeeded each other to the end of the set. And then Captain Pendleton led his beautiful partner back to her seat, and stood talking with her until the music for the waltz commenced. Then, having solicited her hand for that dance, and having ascertained that she never waltzed, he bowed and withdrew to find a partner elsewhere. Very soon Sybil saw him whirling around the room with some one of the many unknown flower girls that constituted so large a portion of the company. Soon after this she saw both her husband and her rival among the waltzers; but they were not waltzing together. Edith the Fair was whirling around and around the room in the arms of a hermit, while Harold the Saxon was engaged with a pretty nun. "They know me! they are cautious!" muttered Sybil, biting her lips with suppressed fury; for their forbearance, which she called duplicity, enraged her more than all their flirting had done.