The questions passing from lip to lip, late on in the night, and after another _contredanse_ had come to a close. A whisper had got wing of something to succeed, altogether different--a dance of a special character, introduced to the Bristolians by the daughter of Madame Lalande. In those days, the era of the morris and other picturesque dances, excellence in the Coryphean art was esteemed a qualification; not lightly held as now, and deemed rather degrading. The French Queen had encouraged this, and noble dames oft vied with each other in saltatory displays. To show her superiority, Clarisse Lalande had prepared a surprise for the assembly at Montserrat House--a dance of the Antilles, in which she could have no competitor, nor need fear any if she had. It was also of Spanish origin, much practised in the West India islands; where, then as now, dancing was a thing of every night, and often of the day--even the negroes giving half their off-labour hours to it, jigging with a grace unknown to the peasantry of European lands. Their white "massas" were, many of them, perfect _maitres-de-danse_, and their young mistresses very Odalisques. Monsieur Lalande had prided himself on this accomplishment, and, as a matter of course, his daughter did the same-- hence the resolve to make display of her proficiency. The music had been prearranged; the time too--after supper, when the excitement which comes of the wine cup would make it more attractive in the eyes of the spectators; though Clarisse Lalande was thinking of only one of them, and how it would affect him.