Fully two hours elapsed before I obtained my opportunity to converse with Sydney. Our eyes had met in the course of a dance in which we were both engaged, and we had exchanged smiles. In the meantime matters had progressed. Sydney's fair companion was the rage. The men begged for an introduction, and surrounded her; on every side I heard them speaking of her beauty and fascinating ways, and one said, in my hearing: "By gad! she is the most delightful creature I ever danced with." It was not the words, but the tone in which they were spoken, which jarred upon my ears. It was such as the speaker would not have adopted to a lady. My observation led me to another unpleasant impression. Sydney's fair companion appeared to be an utter stranger to the ladies present at the ball. Not only did they seem not to know her, but they seemed to avoid her. After patient waiting, my opportunity came, and Sydney and I were side by side. "At last!" he exclaimed. "I have been waiting to speak to you all the evening." "My case exactly," I rejoined. "Anything particular to communicate, Sydney?" "I hardly know," he said. "O, yes--there is something. How is it you have not asked for an introduction to the most beautiful woman in the room?" "To your sister?" I asked, in a meaning tone. "Yes," he replied with a light laugh, "to my sister." "She did not go to Nice, then," I said. "Who said she did not?" he asked, and instantly corrected himself. "Ah, I am forgetful. I remember now I told you my people were going there. Yes--they are in Nice by this time, no doubt." His eyes met mine; they sparkled with mischief, but in their light I saw an expression of mingled tenderness and defiance which puzzled me. "You have done a daring thing, Sydney," I said. "Is that unlike me?" "No; but in this case you may have overlooked certain considerations. Where is the young lady at the present moment?" He pointed to the head of the room.