"Thou art speaking my own mind. I will look about and find some seclusion that thou mayest look and sate thine eyes upon Royalty; and thou wilt gaze and gaze and make mental annotations, and to-morrow thou wilt begin to preen thy feathers preparatory to flying forth; but first thou must lie down and sleep three full hours, 'tis then the ball will be at its height, and thou wilt feel refreshed and ready to amuse me with thy observations. 'Twill be the grandest sight for thee. I have seen many but none so gorgeous as this is to be." Janet went upon a tour of exploration and finding what she desired in the way of a quiet corner returned for Katherine. They passed down flights of steps, through halls, and came to a large corridor that opened upon a gallery which encircled the ballroom, save where it was cleft by a great stairway. As they stood looking over the railing, 'twas like looking down upon an immense concave opal, peopled by the gorgeously apparelled. Myriad tints seeming to assimulate and focus wherever the eyes rested. Gilt bewreathed pillars, mouldings, shimmering satin, lights, jewels, flowers, ceiling, gallery and parquetry appeared like a homogeneous mass of opal. Mistress Katherine could not speak, her perturbed spirit was silent, she held to Janet and the curtain that hung at the arch, and breathed in the perfume. "Canst see thy lord yonder?" "Nay, I see all collectively, but nothing individually; my eyes fail to separate this from that." "Perhaps if thou couldst whip them to his ugly frame, 'twould prove an antidote." "'Twill come in time,--I can now discern that 'tis the folk that art moving and not the flowers and lights. I see a red figure seeming to hurry among the dancers, looking this way and that, peering and peeping; he has lost something." "'Tis more probable he is looking for what he has found; 'tis thy stairway-beau with the rose; he has retrieved it and is hot upon the chase again. He is looking for thee.--'Tis vain my lord-devil, thou hadst better use the time to swathe thy feet in asbestos-flax." The music of the passacaglia floated up and Katherine drank in its minor sweetness. Presently the dance changed into the chaconne with its prominent bass theme, again turning to the poetic and stately sarabande. "Now I do see the Scot; he is by far the most homely figure anywhere, and yet, he is graceful, and it must be a very great beauty with him. How could the master of so great a house look so?" The music changed into a sprightly gavotte, Katherine's ears fairly tingled with the confusion of sound. She lay her head upon Janet's bosom as if drunk with the surfeit of music. "'Tis more than I could have dreamed. Didst ever see anything so beautiful before? It seems years ago since we were within convent walls!" "'Twill bring thy seeming nearer if thy lord proposes a speedy return to the cloister." "Nay, I would not go."