It was early when they entered the theatre, but the house was already crowded, the tiers of boxes were filled with spectators, who, later in the evening, joined the masks in the large ball-room formed by the junction of the pit and stage. Crescenz became alarmed when surrounded by a number of speaking masks, and clung to Hamilton’s arm. Madame Berger and Madame Lustig, on the contrary, laughed and talked with a freedom which rather shocked Hamilton. Hildegarde at first answered gayly all who addressed her; for she felt that she was perfectly unknown; but after some time she perceived that two masks had joined their party, and seemed determined to remain with them. A slight young Turk had attached himself to Madame Berger, while a mysterious black domino followed her like a shadow. “How much pleasanter it must be to look on from above!” she observed, at length; “one has all the amusement without the press and anxiety of the crowd.” “Oh, dear! I have got quite used to it now,” said Crescenz, “and I am not at all afraid.” “If there are places in the boxes to be had,” said Hamilton, “and you are willing to leave this turmoil, I am quite sure I can procure them for you.” “Oh, thank you, let us ask Madame Lustig.” But Madame Lustig protested against the plan. She could not allow them to leave her—it would be quite improper if they were to be seen alone with Mr. Hamilton—indeed, she would rather they were not seen at all, and she positively could not leave Madame Berger with that troublesome Turk, not having the least idea who he might be! “There is no use in asking Lina,” said Crescenz to Hamilton, who had moved towards Madame Berger. And, indeed, all his arguments proved vain. “People should not go to masquerades who did not know how to enjoy themselves! She had no idea of coming to the theatre to mope away the evening in a box—she could do that four times every week; besides, the presence of Mr. Hamilton was necessary for propriety’s sake, and she could not, and would not dispense with his attendance.” All this was poured forth with a volubility, in French, that attracted the attention of the bystanders. “No, the gay little devil of a masque must not think of going, nor her corpulent friend either!” and they were again drawn on with the crowd: Hamilton followed with the sisters, who now ceased altogether to speak. Crescenz had also become aware that they were followed by a black, taciturn figure, which, as she whispered to Hamilton, put her in mind of the Inquisition, and all sorts of horrors. “But,” said Hildegarde, who had heard her remark, “we are also quite black, and probably make the same disagreeable impression on other people.” “He seems quite unknown! I have not seen him speak to any human being,” said Crescenz. “Neither have we, for the last half hour,” answered her sister.