At last the march began,--Sir William and Mistress Huntoon leading, the master of the house following with Lady Berkeley; and when Romney held out his hand to Peggy, she was glad to be alive. As she looked down at her gown she experienced that satisfaction which the young knights of old knew in donning their maiden armor, for is not dress the armor of the social battle? Never in her short life of eighteen years had Peggy Neville looked as lovely as she did to-night. Never had her eyes been so bright, never her cheeks so red, never had Romney felt himself so helplessly her slave, and, alas! the poor boy thought, never had she looked so indifferently upon him. It would not perhaps have encouraged the lad to know that instead of thinking of him with indifference, she simply was not thinking of him at all, her entire attention being fixed upon the scene around her and the actors in it. Such beautiful girls, in their jewels and laces and brocades and high-heeled slippers! Such magnificent men, with rainbow colors in sashes and velvet coats, with ruffles of costly embroideries and buckles reflecting the light of the candles! Most gorgeous of all, Sir William Berkeley! It quite took Peggy's breath away when this elegant courtier bowed before her and begged her hand for the pavan. Yet there he was, sweeping the floor before her with the white plumes of his hat and craving the honor of the dance. Whatever might be thought of Sir William's powers of governing, there could be no doubt that he understood the art of dancing, and, final test of skill, of making his partner dance well. Holding the tips of Peggy's fingers lightly, but firmly, he led her to the head of the hall, where the host and hostess stood. These they saluted gravely, she with a deep courtesy, he with an equally deep bow, his hat clasped to his heart. Then sweeping down the room they paused again before the portrait of the King, and Berkeley saluted with his sword; then on again, the hautboys keeping time while the company marked the rhythm by singing together, after the fashion introduced by Queen Henrietta's French courtiers-- [Illustration (music): Bel - le qui tiens ma - vie - e cap - ti - ve dans tes yeux, Qui m'as l'â - me ra - vi - e d'un sou - rire gra - ci - eux, Viens tôt me se - cou rir ou me faud - ra mou - rir. ] At the end of the measure, the advance being ended, the retreat began, the Governor walking behind and leading his partner backward, always with delicately held finger-tips, the raised arm and rounded wrist showing every graceful curve as the girl walked. "Where did she learn it," wondered Romney, "and she never at Court?"