Costanza, shrugging her shoulders, turned and rustled across the room. I was surprised to see how handsome she looked. With her gown of richest brocade, made with a long train and Elizabethan collar, with the rubies gleaming in her dark hair and in the folds of her bodice, she seemed a figure well in harmony with the stately beauty of her surroundings. As though conscious of her effect, she moved over to the entrance of the inner room, and stood there framed in the arched doorway with its hangings of faded damask. Andrea went at once to her side. "It's a long time since we have had a dance together, Contessima." "A long, long time, Marchesino." Then their voices fell, and there was nothing to be heard but a twittering exchange of whispers. Bianca put her arm about my waist and whirled me round and round. "We don't dance the same way," she said, releasing me after a brief but breathless interval. Annunziata in apple-green brocade and a pearl stomacher was the next arrival, laughing heartily, and flourishing her lace handkerchief as she came. Behind her strolled her husband, handsome, indolent, and grave as a judge. The old Marchese brought up the rear. The guests began now to arrive; smart, dignified, voluble matrons; smart, expectant girls; slight, serious young civilians, dandling their hats as they came; pretty little officers in uniform, with an air of being very much at home in a ball-room. Romeo brought me a programme, and wrote his name down for the lancers. Then I stood there rather forlornly while the musicians struck up the first waltz. At the first notes of the music Andrea left Costanza's side and came towards me. "He is going to ask me to dance," was my involuntary reflection; "how nice! I am sure he dances well." "Let me introduce il signor capitano," said Romeo's voice in my ear; and there stood a trim little person in uniform before me, bowing and requesting the honour of the first dance. "One moment," said Andrea, quietly, as, rather disappointed, I began to move away with my partner; "Miss Meredith, may I see your card?" I handed him the little bit of gilt pasteboard, virgin, save for his brother's name. "Will you give me six and ten?" "Yes." He returned to Costanza, his partner for the dance, and I and my officer plunged into the throng. It was not a success. There were no points of agreement in our practice of waltzing, and after a few turns we subsided on to one of the damask sofas, exchanging commonplaces and watching the dancers, whose rapid twists and bounding action filled my heart with despair. "I shall never be able to dance like that," I reflected. It was by no means an ungraceful performance. They leapt high, it is true, but in no vulgar fashion of mere jumping; rather they rose into the air with something of the ease and elasticity of an indiarubber ball, maintaining throughout an appearance of great seriousness and dignity.