The dancer looked from side to side, as though in search of some face or figure; as though in fear, in distress. Was she actually panting when she left the stage--she, La Belle Louise, the ethereal, the spirituelle, the very imponderable dream of the dance itself? This might have been; for presently she cast herself into the arms of Madame Delchasse in a state bordering upon actual panic. "Auntie!" she cried, "I can not dance! I am done with it! I shall never dance again. I can not! I can not!" She trembled as though in actual fear or suffering as she spoke. "Now, now, my cherished!" said the old French lady, gathering her to her ample bosom, "what is it that has come to you? You have illness? Come, we'll go at 'ome." The dancer was slow in laying aside her silken skirts and putting on her street attire. Madame waited some time before thrusting her head through the half-open door, "See! my dearie," she cried, "I have the surprise for you. Monsieur shall ride home with you. He has ordered for to-night the second carriage, which I shall myself take--since you are so soon to ride with monsieur all the time, is it not?" The head of madame disappeared. The girl, when at last ready to depart, sat with her gaze fixed on the door; yet she started when presently there came a knock. Henry Decherd entered. "Louise!" he cried, "Louise!" and would have caught her in his arms. She repulsed him and stood back, pale and trembling. "Oh, I say," protested Decherd, "one would think I had no right." "You have no right to touch me," she replied. "You shall not. Go on away with auntie in the other carriage. I will follow you home." "Come, now," said Decherd, approaching; "this sort of thing won't do. I don't understand what you mean." "No, you don't understand a girl," she said. "At least I understand how a girl ought to treat the man she is to marry." "Marry!" said Miss Lady, whispering to herself. "Marry!" There was silence between them for a time, but she turned to him at length. "I shall never dance again," said she. "Neither to-morrow, nor at any other time, shall I set foot upon the stage again." "You will not need to do so, when once we are married," said he. "I shall be willing--but tell me, what's the matter to-night? You are only tired. You will wake up again." "Wake up!" cried she, "that is the very word. I feel as though I had suddenly awakened, this very night." She pressed her hands to her reddening cheeks. "Can't you see?" she cried. "To-night for the first time I felt them! I felt their eyes. I _felt_ them, out there in front, as though there were many; as though there were more than one. I felt that they were women-that they were _men!_" "Well, they have been there all the time," said Decherd. "It's odd you should just realize that."