Her personal appearance was more diabolically handsome than ever. As usual, her colours were black and red, but, being in silk, they were exceptionally effective. There was a glimpse of warm white neck and smooth rounded arms; her hair, coiled on the top of her head, revealed the graceful bend of the nape. Her bracelet and necklace matched the earrings of the morning, and beneath the delicate film of her glove was discernible the form of the great ruby. 'Might I have the honour of this dance?' 'Not yet, not yet. In this moment I feel myself unable. Let us rather talk. I am not myself; you see it. Listen to the sea. My God! how it roars! I wish I were out on it in my canoe with the great waves.' I laughed to disguise the concern which her manifest agitation caused me. 'In that case, mademoiselle, you would be without the advantage of my society; and I doubt whether my little friend Montgomery even would venture to swim after you on such a night as this.' 'Oh, he is your friend, then, this Monsieur Mont--Mont-go-merie? And I have spoken of him to you slightingly. I did not know, and I am foolish; I speak without forethought. You will forget it? Yes.' 'If anyone should apologise it is I, for not having warned you beforehand of our tender relations. But be reassured; Monsieur Montgomery is a poet, and intends making you the heroine of an epic. If you are gracious to him this evening he will forgive you anything.' 'It is not of him that I shall demand pardon,' said the Countess with the slightest imaginable intonation of scorn. 'But he is your friend, and you shall see how I will be polite.' She breathed and moved nervously, her thoughts being evidently absorbed in some subject foreign enough to anything I could guess. Her eyes were restless, and she fanned her flushed cheeks in vain. 'What day is this?' she demanded suddenly. 'The fifteenth of August.' 'I shall remember it always--always.' The hand that held the fan drooped, and, seemingly by accident, touched my own. The momentary glance that swept my face showed an inward trouble and appeal, and, if I read it aright, a something deeper and more passionate beyond. With the unexpectedness that was one of her characteristics she rose to her feet. 'Come, I feel better at present: let us dance; come.' In her preoccupation she had not perceived that the music had ceased some minutes, and the dancers all left the floor. 'What hast thou, then, dear one?' inquired the Countess Semaroff, looking up indolently through her eye-glasses. Almara perceived her blunder, and I could mark a pulsation of anger pass through her body while she muttered behind her teeth, 'That I am imbecile!' 'Don't you find it very warm here? Suppose we take a turn to the door,' I suggested. She thanked me with a look, exchanged a glance and a word with her mother, and taking my arm, we began to move down the aisle.