Thus donna Lenora found herself strangely isolated. The Flemish ladies banded themselves in groups, they chatted together, whispered and made merry, but the Spanish girl who had stood in high honour beside the Lieutenant-Governor’s representative was not one of themselves. She was slim and tall and graceful, she was dressed in simple white; above all, she belonged to the ruling caste, and though many a kind-hearted Flemish vrouw pitied her in her loneliness, not one of them thought of going to speak to her. Donna Lenora sighed and her eyes filled with tears--with tears not altogether of sorrow, but also of self-pity mingled with bitter resentment. Even the company of her future husband might have been acceptable at this moment, when she felt so very lonely. But Mark van Rycke was no longer nigh. IV Then suddenly her face lit up with joy, the colour rushed to her cheeks, and her lips parted in a smile. She had just espied in the brilliant throng, one no less brilliant figure which was slowly pushing its way through the crowd in her direction. "Ramon," she whispered, as soon as the young man was quite close to her, "I didn’t know you were here." "His Highness," he replied, "has given me command of the garrison here; I arrived last night with my regiment." "But where are your lodgings?" "At the house of those thrice accursed van Ryckes," he muttered with an oath. "The billeting was arranged without my knowledge, and of course I and my men leave those quarters to-morrow. Every morsel I eat in that house seems to choke me." "Poor Ramon!" she whispered with tender pity. "I too have been unutterably wretched since I saw you in Brussels." "I couldn’t communicate with you again, sweetheart--and this to my great grief--but I was bundled out of Brussels like a bale of goods, and here I am! Imagine my joy when I realised that I should see you to-night." "Hush!" she murmured quickly, for with a quick impulse he had seized her hand and was pressing it to his lips. "My father can see us." "What matter if he do," retorted don Ramon. "He has taken you from me, but he cannot kill my love ... our love, Lenora," he added with passionate ardour--an ardour in which he himself believed for the moment, since he loved Lenora and she was so exquisite, in her stateliness, her white gown and that casque of golden hair upon her head. "You must not say that, Ramon," she said with earnestness that was far more real than his, "you must try and help me ... and not make my sacrifice altogether unbearable. It has been terrible," she added, and a curious, haunted look came into her eyes.