A group of maskers came up the path as she dismissed her brother with this well-intentioned fib, and with them she entered. Familiar with the house, she slipped past the dressing-room, and went into a sort of recess at the head of the back-stairway. Here in the dark she adjusted her dress as well as she was able, and then seated herself upon her cloak, holding her head in her hands. She dreaded going down to encounter the lights, and the eyes of the company. She shrank from possible discovery, and lingered until the fear of having to enter the parlors alone drove her from her hiding-place. She saw a lady emerging from the dressing-room, and with a swaggering bow Patty offered her arm. The lady, taking it, murmured "Thanks." By the voice Patty recognized Dessie Farnum. The two descended the stairs together. They found Mrs. Toxteth receiving at the parlor-door. Near her stood a mask whom Patience did not recognize. He was tall and slender, with a figure which his motions seemed to indicate supple and well knit. His dress, which was admirably adapted to display his figure, was that of a Florentine courtier of Lorenzo de' Medici's day. Patty recalled Clarence's speaking of friends from Samoset who were to be present, and set the unknown down as one of the party. As she moved away, however, she felt a touch on her shoulder. She started violently, but by a strong effort endeavored to regain her composure. She felt that at any cost she must preserve her _incognito_; and, resolutely steadying herself, she turned to see who had arrested her. It was the Florentine chevalier. Taking her hand in one of his, with the finger of the other he traced upon her palm the letters "P. S." She shook her head; but, as she did so, it flashed upon her that the unknown was Tom Putnam. She had not considered that it would be necessary for him to procure a dress in place of the one he had taken to exchange with her; and now, in despite her agitation, she concluded that he must have sent to Boston for the costume he wore, and she admired him in it. Her next thought was that he must have been waiting for her. She refused the arm which he proffered, but followed as he led the way into a small back-parlor which chanced to be empty. There he stood looking at her without speaking. "Well," she said, when she had endured the silence as long as she could. "What has my Lord Mentor to say now?" "Nothing," he answered. "The Chevalier Sorrowful might present a petition, but certainly my Lord Mentor is silent." "I am glad of that at least. Still I should like to be informed if the Chevalier Sorrowful has ever had dealings with Paul Pry." "The Chevalier," the other said, parrying her thrust, "needs no dealings with Paul Pry. He has eyes for but one lady, and her he can detect under any disguise." "What keenness of vision!" Patty retorted. Then, hoping to give the conversation a less personal character, she added, "Hark! Who is that singing?"