When the wonderful evening was over the sailors left the theatre in perfect order, and preceded by their own band of music marched to their landing at New Slip; and while this exit was transpiring, so many people visited Madame Bloommaert that she may be said to have held a ten minutes’ royal reception in her box. And though the beautiful old woman with her beaming face and rich dark drapery was in herself a picture worth looking at, her charm was greatly increased by the lovely girls who stood on either side of her--both of them dressed alike in pale blue camblet gowns and spencers of the then rare chinchilla fur, so soft, so delicately grey, so inconstestably becoming. “I have had four hours of perfect happiness,” said madame, as she lay at last among her pillows, with her hands clasped upon her breast, “of perfect happiness! Think of that, children! Four hours of perfect happiness!” Annette said eagerly, “I too, grandmother, I too have been perfectly happy.” But Sappha did not speak, she bent her head and kissed madame, and fussed a little about her night posset, and her pillows, and the rush light, and so managed to evade any notice of a silence which might have been construed adversely. For indeed Sappha had not been perfectly happy. She had rejoiced with those that rejoiced, but in her heart there was a sense of failure. Leonard had not sought her out, and she had been unable to gain any recognition from him. For a short time he was in the Clarks’ box, and she watched for some sign that he was aware of her presence; but the sign did not come, and long before the entertainment was over he had disappeared. “He is jealous again,” she thought with a sigh. And really it appeared as if, in this crisis, he had some cause for offence. His offer to accompany Sappha and her family had been refused, and Sappha was with Achille. He had not even been asked to join Achille’s party, and as for the judge’s gout--every one knew he was subject to the complaint. He thought Mrs. Bloommaert might have left him for three or four hours; he told himself that she would have done so if Sappha had asked her with sufficient persuasion. It angered him to see the girl he loved and whose troth he held, in the company of Achille St. Ange. For he was not yet aware of Achille’s engagement to Annette, the letter which Sappha sent by Kouba not having reached him. For Kouba had thought far more of enjoying the excitement of the streets than of finding Mr. Murray, and the only effort he made in that direction was to finally leave the letter at the City Hotel, where he was told Mr. Murray was dining.