The procession had reached the front of the Hotel by this time, and halted there for refreshment. The waiters, Jules and Phillippe and Henri, appeared with plates of dessert and cakes and threw them indiscriminately amongst the people. One of the foremost to jump and scramble to catch the falling sweetmeats was the girl who carried the lantern-skipping rope above her head, and in whom Ralph Pullen, to his astonishment, recognised Harriet Brandt. There she was, fantastically dressed in a white frock, and a broad yellow sash, with her magnificent hair loose and wreathed with scarlet flowers. She looked amazingly handsome, like a Bacchante, and her appearance and air of abandon, sent the young man’s blood into his face and up to the roots of his fair hair. “Surely!” exclaimed Margaret, “that is never Miss Brandt!” “Yes! it is,” cried Harriet, “I’m having the most awful fun! Why don’t you come too? I’ve danced the whole way up the Digue, and it is so warm! I wish the waiters would give us something to drink! I’ve eaten so many bonbons I feel quite sick!” “What will you take, Miss Brandt?” asked Captain Pullen eagerly, “_limonade_ or soda water?” “A _limonade_, please! You _are_ good!” she replied, as he handed her the tumbler over the balcony balustrades. “Come along and dance with me!” “I cannot! I am with my sister and Miss Leyton!” he replied. “O! pray do not let _us_ prevent you,” said Elinor in her coldest voice; “Margaret was just going upstairs and I am quite ready to accompany her!” “No, no, Elinor,” whispered Mrs. Pullen with a shake of her head, “stay here, and keep Ralph company!” “But it is nearly ten o’clock,” replied Miss Leyton, consulting her watch, “and I have been on my feet all day! and feel quite ready for bed. Good-night, Ralph!” she continued, offering him her hand. “Well! if you two are really going to bed, I shall go too,” said Captain Pullen, rising, “for there will be nothing for me to do here after you’re gone!” “Not even to follow the procession?” suggested Miss Leyton, with a smile. “Don’t talk nonsense!” he rejoined crossly. “Am I the sort of man to go bobbing up and down the Digue amongst a parcel of children?” He shook hands with them both, and walked away rather sulkily to his own quarter of the hotel. But he did not go to bed. He waited until some fifteen minutes had elapsed, and then telling himself that it was impossible to sleep at that hour, and that if Elinor chose to behave like a bear, it was not his fault, he came downstairs again and sauntered out on the sea front. It was very lonely there at that moment. The procession had turned and gone down to the other end again, where its lights and banners could be seen, waving about in the still summer air.