"The fugue, dear--yes, of course. There was a young man in front of me wriggled dreadfully. I thought he was uneasy about a pin, but he was only showing how pleased he was with the music, and kept calling out 'Oh this is food!'" "Wanted the bottle, I expect," said Eustace sweetly, "such musical babies shouldn't be allowed to go to classical concerts. It's too much for their nerves." "It's too much for mine," remarked Otterburn grimly. "After dinner," said Gartney, looking thoughtfully at him, "I shall play the 'Moonlight Sonata.'" "In that case, Lady Errington, may I stay out on the terrace? Such a suggestion is inhuman." Lady Errington laughed and gave the signal to the ladies, whereupon they all arose to their feet. "I'm afraid you're talking dreadful nonsense," she said, shaking her head. "It's a poor heart that never rejoiceth," replied Otterburn impudently, as he opened the door for the ladies to depart. Following the Continental fashion, Sir Guy and his guests did not linger long over their wine, but, after a few minutes, went into the drawing-room, whence they strolled on to the terrace for cigarettes and coffee. Mrs. Trubbles, feeling sleepy after her dinner, found a comfortable chair in a distant corner of the room, and went placidly to sleep, while the remaining guests established themselves on the terrace, the gentlemen with cigarettes and the ladies with coffee. Such a perfect night as it was. Away in the distance, dense and black against the cold, clear sky, frowned the sombre masses of mountains, above which hung in a cloudless firmament the silver shield of the moon. Here and there a liquid star throbbed in the deep heart of the heavens, and overhead shone the misty splendour of the Milky Way; not a breath of wind ruffled the still surface of the lake, which reflected the serene beauty of the sky, but at intervals across the star-smitten surface would move the dark, slim form of a boat, the oars breaking the water into thousands of flashing diamonds. Far beyond glimmered the orange-coloured lights of Blevio, and the sudden whiteness of some tall campanile shooting up in slender beauty from amid its dark mass of surrounding houses. A sense of perfect fragrance in the still air, a charmed silence all around, and a wondrous restful feeling under the cool magic of the night. Then, mellowed by distance, faint and far like aerial music, the silver tones of a peal of bells sounded at intervals through the clear atmosphere, until the whole night seemed full of sweet sounds.