"Ah, go and dance!" she said. "I've heard all that before. It never means anything. Go and dance with the little lady over there in the pink domino! I give you my word that she is pretty. Her name is Una, but she is minus the lion on this occasion. I shall tell you no more than that." "Egad! It's more than enough!" said the court jester, as he bowed and moved away. The lady indicated stood alone in the curtained embrasure of a bay-window. She was watching the dancers with an absorbed air, and did not notice his approach. He drew near, walking with a free swagger in time to the haunting waltz-music. Reaching her, he stopped and executed a sweeping bow, his hand upon his heart. "May I have the pleasure--" She looked up with a start. Her eyes shone through her mask with a momentary irresolution as she bent in response to his bow. With scarcely a pause he offered her his arm. "You dance the waltz?" She hesitated for a second; then, with an affirmatory murmur, accepted the proffered arm. The bold stare with which he met her look had in it something of compulsion. He led her instantly away from her retreat, and in a moment his hand was upon her waist. He guided her into the gay stream of dancers without a word. They began to waltz--a dream--waltz in which she seemed to float without effort, without conscious volition. Instinctively she responded to his touch, keenly, vibrantly aware of the arm that supported her, of the dark, free eyes that persistently sought her own. "Faith!" he suddenly said in his soft, Irish voice. "To find Una without the lion is a piece of good fortune I had scarcely prayed for. And what was the persuasion that you used at all to keep the monster in his den?" She glanced up, half-startled by his speech. What did this man know about her? "If you mean my husband," she said at last, "I did not persuade him. He never wished or intended to come." Her companion laughed as one well pleased. "Very generous of him!" he commented, in a tone that sent the blood to her cheeks. He guided her dexterously among the dancers. The girl's breath came quickly, unevenly, but her feet never faltered. "If I were the lion," said her partner daringly, "by the powers, I'd play the part! I wouldn't be a tame beast, egad! If Una went out to a fancy ball, my faith, I would go too!" Lady Brooke uttered a little, excited laugh. The words caught her interest. "And suppose Una went without your leave?" she said. The Irishman looked at her with a humorous twist at one corner of his mouth. "I'm thinking that I'd still go too," he said. "But if you didn't know?" She asked the question with a curious vehemence. Her instinct told her that, however he might profess to trifle, here at least was a man. "That wouldn't happen," he said, with conviction, "if I were the lion." The music was quickening to the _finale_, and she felt the strong arm grow tense about her. "Come!" he said. "We will go into the garden."