"Please me!" I mumbled. "Oh, my Diana--!" Her lashes drooped and then, as she swayed to me, I clasped her in my arms and, tremulous, fragrant, vital with love and youth, she gave her lips to mine. "Is it worth the years of waiting?" she whispered beneath my kisses. "God knows it!" I answered and lifted her hand to my lips and then stood utterly still, cold with a sudden, horrible sickness--staring at this white hand, where, amid sparkling gems, I saw the dull oval of a scarabaeus ring. "What is it, Peregrine?" she questioned, a little breathlessly. "This scarab? It is one my dear pal bought me in Egypt. Come away, dear, let us run from the crowd--let us steal away together, somewhere--anywhere--you and I." And speaking, she drew about her shoulders a scarf, a filmy thing of gossamer, spangled with gold stars. "Quick, Peregrine!" she breathed. "There is the duke--coming this way, quick--before he spies us!" "Impossible!" I answered, wondering to hear myself speaking so lightly. "His Grace has seen us already--besides, your duty lies here to-night." "Very well, dear Peregrine," she sighed, "but I had hoped you--you would have bade me forget duty--a little while." So she turned away and indistinctly I heard the duke begging her to sing again; then I watched her go, smiling and bowing to her, but with a buzzing in my brain and all hell raging in my breast. A black-bodied chaise--picked out in yellow--red wheels--Captain Danby! For a long time I stood in the shadow of the window curtains staring out upon a moon hidden ever and anon in flying cloud-wrack; but at last I turned and wandered away with some vague idea of finding Anthony, and as I went, the lights and glitter, the sounds of voices and laughter grew ever more distasteful, and turning my back on it all, I found my way into a wide corridor. And here, in a shady alcove screened by curtains, I espied Anthony kissing his wife; her round, white arms were about his neck, crushing his cravat woefully, but seeing the rapture in their faces I stole away and left them. Reaching the hall I bade a footman summon my carriage, but on second thoughts countermanded the order and, donning hat and cloak, set out to walk home to my chambers. A wind was abroad and I walked bareheaded to cool the fevered throbbing of my temples, but this wind found voices to mock me and at my heels ran demons, gibbering obscenities. Reaching my door at last, I thundered on the knocker until it opened, and brushing past the pallid Clegg, bade him order my horse. "Horse, sir?" he repeated, a note of interest in his usually toneless voice. "Do you propose to go riding, sir?" "I do!" "Yes, sir--which horse do you--?" "Wildfire. Have him brought round at once!" "Very good, sir!" Not waiting for Clegg's assistance, I slipped off my evening garments and was pulling on my riding boots when I heard the tattoo of Wildfire's impatient hoofs upon the roadway.