When at length I got free, Miralda was not anywhere to be seen; and I wandered about the rooms and in and out of the conservatories looking for her, putting up no end of couples in odd corners and getting deservedly scowled at for my pains. I saw her at last among the dancers; and I stood and watched her, gritting my teeth in the resolve that no titled old bores nor even wild horses should prevent my speaking to her as soon as the waltz was over. I stalked her into a palm house which I had missed in my former search and, giving her and her partner just enough time to find seats, I followed and walked straight up to them. She knew I was coming. I could tell that by the way she squared her shoulders and affected the deepest interest in her partner’s conventional nothings. “I think the next is our dance, mademoiselle,” I said unblushingly, as I affected to consult my card. She gave a start as if entirely surprised by and rather indignant at the interruption; while her partner had the decency to rise. But she glanced at her card and then looked up with a bland smile and shook her head. “I am afraid you are mistaken, monsieur.” The man was going to resume his place by her side, but I stopped that. “I have the honour of your initials here, and if to my intense misfortune you have given the dance to two of us, perhaps this gentleman will allow me, as an old acquaintance of yours, to enjoy the few minutes of interval to deliver an important message entrusted to me.” I was under the fire of her eyes all the time I was delivering this flowery and untruthful rigmarole; but I was as voluble and as grave as a judge. I took the man in all right. I made him feel that under the circumstances he was in the way and with a courteous bow to us both, he excused himself. Miralda was going to request him to remain, I think, so I took possession of the vacant chair; and then of course she could not bring him back without making too much of the incident and possibly causing a little scene. That I had offended her I could not fail to see; her hostility and resentment were obvious, but whether the cause was my present effrontery or my long neglect of her, I had yet to find out. She did not quite know what to do. After sitting a few moments in rather frowning indecision, she half rose as if she were going to leave me, but with a little toss of the head she decided against that and turned to me. “You have a message for me, monsieur?” Her tone was one of studied indifference and her look distinctly chilling. “For one thing, my sister desired to be most kindly remembered to you.” Up went the deep fringed lids and the dark eyebrows, as a comment upon the message which I had described as important. “Please to tell Madame Madrillo that I am obliged by her good wishes and reciprocate them.” This ridiculously stilted phrase made it difficult for me to resist a smile. But I played up to it.