Now the curtain fell; the princess turned around, and Heraclius stood up; he made room for various visitors who came crowding into the box, and went out. Shortly afterwards I saw him on the other side of the house with his opera glass directed on me. During the rest of the performance Lord Hillsborough stayed in the box and Heraclius did not return. After the quartet in the last act the princess stood up. “Let us go,” said she; “I do not want to see the coming storm and the dragging out of the bag with the corpse. Instead, let us take a turn through the gaming-rooms.” At the exit of the auditorium stood Heraclius. He came to my side. “The performance is over at last! Were you very much fascinated by the Englishman’s conversation?” “I was fascinated by the Italian’s music,” said I in reply. A long gallery leads from the theater to the gaming-rooms. Heraclius walked by my side, and I expected every moment that he would put into words what had just now been uttered through the eyes; but then the princess began to involve her cousin in a conversation, which lasted till we entered the gaming-rooms. Here we took our stand at the roulette table, and the princess flung some gold pieces on the _tableau_. “I am going to make a proposition,” said Heraclius to his cousin. “To-day is Wednesday, and there is a ball here; let us go to the gallery and look on.” The princess agreed, and the little company mounted the steps leading to the ballroom gallery. This was full of people. There was hardly a place to be found between the spectators who were leaning over the railing. We had to separate; the princess took her place at one end of the gallery, I was at the other. Heraclius joined me. It was like a tête-à-tête. Crowded by the people who stood beside us, he had to come so near me that his arm rested on the railing close against mine. What we said no one else could hear, for the noise of the waltz music prevented words exchanged at close quarters from carrying to any remoter place. It was to a Strauss waltz—the _Morgenblätter_—that the couples on the floor below were whirling. But, though I looked down, I saw little of the swarm on the floor; my ball was up above. More giddily than under the maddest galop time I felt myself whirled onward by the prince’s proximity, by his words. The atmosphere was oppressive; the chandelier near us poured out a hot and dazzling light. I kept my fan going incessantly, and with its sandalwood scent it said something to me—for scents also speak—that enravished me. “You are a magnificent girl,” Heraclius’s flattering voice was whispering in my ear meantime. “You have all the qualities to turn the soberest heads, to set the coldest hearts to beating. I had no idea that earth contained a being who could exercise such a witchery as you—”