All rose and drank; Hotham lifted his glass high in air and tried a cheer, but none joined him; his voice died away, and he sat down; and for several minutes an unbroken silence prevailed. My father at last leaned over towards Madame, and I. heard the word “coffee.” She arose and took his arm, and we all followed them to the drawing-room. “I 'm right glad it's over,” said Hotham, as he poured his brandy over his coffee. “I've sat out a court-martial that wasn't slower than that dinner.” “But what's the meaning of it all?” asked another. “Why and how came all these apologies?” “You 'd better ask Cleremont, or rather his wife,” muttered Hotham, and moved away. “You ought to get into the open air; that's the best thing for you,” I heard Cleremont say to his wife; but there was such a thorough indifference in the tone, it sounded less like a kindness than a sarcasm. She, however, drew a shawl around her, and moved down the steps into the garden. My father soon after retired to his own room, and Cleremont laughingly said, “There are no women here, and we may have a cigar;” and he threw his case across the table. The whole party were soon immersed in smoke. I saw that my presence imposed some restraint on the conversation, and soon sought my room with a much sadder spirit and a heavier heart than I had left it two hours before. CHAPTER XII. THE BALL Musing and thinking and fretting together, I had fallen asleep on my sofa, and was awakened by Mr. Nixon lighting my candles, and asking me, in a very mild voice, if I felt unwell. “No, nothing of the kind.” “Won't you go down, sir, then? It's past eleven now, and there 's a good many people below.” “Who have come?” asked I, eagerly. “Well, sir,” said he, with a certain degree of hesitation, “they 're not much to talk about There's eight or nine young gentlemen of the embassies--attachés like--and there's fifteen or twenty officers of the Guides, and there's some more that look like travellers out of the hotels; they ain't in evening-dress.” “Are there no ladies?” “Yes; I suppose we must call them ladies, sir. There's Madame Rigault and her two daughters.” “The pastrycook?” “Yes, sir; and there are the Demoiselles Janson, of the cigar-shop, and stunningly dressed they are too! Amber satin with black lace, and Spanish veils on their heads. And there's that little Swedish girl--I believe she's a Swede--that sells the iced drinks.” “But what do you mean? These people have not been invited. How have they come here?” “Well, sir, I must n't tell you a lie; but I hope you 'll not betray me if I speak in confidence to you. Here's how it all has happened. The swells all refused: they agreed together that they 'd not come to dinner, nor come in the evening. Mr. Cleremont knows why; but it ain't for me to say it.” “But _I_ don't know, and I desire to know!” cried I, haughtily.