"Stephanopulos!" whispered Felix. "Do you know his partner?" Angelica shrugged her shoulders, and apparently preferred to leave the question unanswered. There was no lack of pretty girls, and, although they belonged to the most different social ranks, they all bore themselves with the like respectability, and, with all their freedom, with natural good taste. The young architect stepped up to say good-evening to him. He wore a becoming Flemish costume, and his companion, who was not exactly pretty, but looked sensible and modest, was dressed as a mediaeval burgher's daughter, with a large coif and ruffles about the neck. Then the couple danced a graceful provincial dance to the _Laendler_ that the band was playing, waltzing round and round in the same spot, or separating in fantastic figures to approach each other again and take each other by the finger-tips. Kohle also danced, but entirely by himself, in an exceedingly comical costume, for he represented St. Dionysius, who was accustomed to carry his decapitated head under his arm. For this purpose he had rigged up an immense cabbage-head, had painted it and hung it round with long horse-hairs, while his own head was ingeniously encircled by a huge aureole, from which there hung a golden fringe covering his face, so that, from a distance, this yellow, dazzling disk seemed to rest immediately on the neck. This figure, half ghastly, half droll, slowly swung itself about among the whirling couples, to the sound of the music, occasionally going through with a little extemporaneous buffoonery, especially with the Capuchin, who evinced a deep respect for the holy man, which he expressed by incessantly offering him his snuffbox, and by mating frantic efforts to kiss the head of the martyr.