In the mean time the ball went on, notwithstanding the absence of this happy couple, and no one seemed to miss anything. But the later it grew the more impatiently did the eyes of the red-bearded Capuchin wander toward the door through which he was expecting the angel of Paradise to enter and announce that a guest in a cowl was standing outside the door and waiting for admission. He racked his brains in the vain effort to imagine what could possibly have detained his lady, who, only a short time before, had expressed such a strong desire to be present at the masquerade; and when it struck eleven, and nothing had appeared, he secretly gave up the affair as lost. As he had made up his mind that the mysterious stranger would in the end reveal herself in all her beauty, and afford him an opportunity to celebrate a great triumph, he naturally felt very much put out at finding that he had been playing a fool's part, and he slunk about as embarrassed and wretched as a wet sparrow. But his distress proved useless, after all. The intermission that preceded the cotillon had begun, and every one had streamed into the supper-room to eat and drink, when Fridolin, entering the hall with his flaming sword under his arm, nodded to him mysteriously, and whispered that there was some one outside who wished to speak with him. The monk rushed into the hall with most unclerical haste, and was not disappointed. She whom he expected stood before him. She acknowledged his welcome, but in such a formal tone that he found a good deal of difficulty in stammering out some gallant reproaches for her late arrival. Her chief anxiety seemed to be that her disguise was not sufficient to prevent her from being recognized. When he had somewhat relieved her fears on this score and had, as an additional precaution, arranged her white eyebrows and beard so that they should cover a little more of the delicate face, she asked why no music could be heard from the hall. He explained to her the reason of the pause, and wanted to escort her in without further ceremony. But she insisted upon waiting until the dance should begin again, and begged him to leave her and rejoin the company until that time. His chivalrous heart would not consent to this, so he staid outside with the beautiful unknown, who had taken possession of the chair at Fridolin's table, and who answered in monosyllables to his neat speeches and appeared to be in a strange state of excitement, and entirely absorbed in her own thoughts. At length, the first sound of the fiddle inside gave the signal for his release; but not until the trembling of the floor made it apparent that the couples had once more begun the dance, did the muffled figure rise and seize the arm of her companion. Rosenbusch felt that she trembled slightly; he could not imagine what should make her, but he was already too much abashed by her reserve to rally her upon her strange timidity.