There was a wicked smile on her lips; but my heart beat quick, and I remained gazing upon her, fascinated by the expression of her eyes. Those beautiful orbs attracted me more than the curved brows, the straight nose, the fine nostril and short upper lip, their accessories. They were somewhat of a blue black, or violet colour, and sparkled under long fringes of silk, which chastened and subdued the fire of their expression. They were full of obscure language, of inspiration, and undefined thoughts, those beautiful eyes! They were full of sweetness too, and of power: I could imagine that their expression would have been magnificent in love, and terrible in rage; but at that moment they expressed only the most charming archness and timidity. "Come, señor--are you going?" said she. "Certainly, señora," said I, with confusion; "but permit me to kiss your hand, in token that you really forgive me." "There, señor--and now begone; for, on my honour, you tire me." I kissed her pretty hand with all the confusion of a boy, and hurried away. Such was my flutter, and such my tumult, that I omitted to mark well the features of the passage, that I might find my way back again. I saw only those timid, dark, and seducing eyes! I sprang up-stairs to our apartment, in search of any of my friends. "Rollo, Angus M'Alpine!" cried I. "Dia! what is the matter?" cried the tall lieutenant of our company, as he sprang from a table where he was playing at chess with the Hausmeister, and in doing so overset the board and their wine-pot together; "is the house on fire?" "No! but I have found her." "Her--who?" he asked, while the Hausmeister changed colour very perceptibly. "I have seen her again." "What, thy countess?" said Red Angus, laughing. "Yes--and spoken with her." "I wish you had tarried with her; for you have spilled our wine, and spoiled our game." "It is all an illusion--an impossibility," said Herr Roskilde; "for I swear to you, gentlemen, there is no such person----" "Hold, Rollo," said M'Alpine, gravely, on perceiving that I was getting wroth; "perhaps there is something supernatural in all this." "Nothing supernatural at all, Angus. I spoke with her--saw her, and kissed her hand." "Oho! Mahoud! thou art getting on apace," said the lieutenant, laughing. "Beware!" growled Otto in his deep German bass, "for these Trolds are mere unsubstantial forms; hollow behind----" "Trolds be hanged!" said I; "hollow behind, indeed! Do you laugh at me, friend Otto?" "No--but I say, that I think you have been deceived." "Nay, may I die if I ever touched a hand more fair, more round, more beautiful! And then her eyes! Ah, Master Otto! 'tis for yourself you keep this fair prize so slily locked up--but you cannot deceive me. Come with me, gentlemen, and I will show you whether or not I have been deceived by the Herr or my own eyes, and whether I have deserved the jests of Ian for the last week."