But Giovanni sat beside her, and knew that the spell was working upon him, and that there was no salvation.  He had taken her unawares, though he hardly knew it, when she first entered, and he asked her suddenly for a dance.  He had wondered vaguely why she had so freely consented; but, in the wild delight of being by her side, he completely lost all hold upon himself, and yielded to the exquisite charm of her presence, as a man who has struggled for a moment against a powerful opiate sinks under its influence, and involuntarily acknowledges his weakness.  Strong as he was, his strength was all gone, and he knew not where he should find it.

“You will have to make her some further apology,” said Corona, as Madame Mayer’s red train disappeared through the doorway at the other end of the room.

“Of course—­I must do something about it,” said Giovanni, absently.  “After all, I do not wonder—­it is amazing that I should have recognised her at all.  I should forget anything to-night, except that I am to dance with you.”

The Duchessa looked away, and fanned herself slowly; but she sighed, and checked the deep-drawn breath as by a great effort.  The waltz was over, and the dancers streamed through the intervening rooms towards the gallery in quest of fresher air and freer space.  Two and two they came, quickly following each other and passing on, some filling the high seats along the walls, others hastening towards the supper-rooms beyond.  A few minutes earlier Saracinesca and Corona had been almost alone in the great apartment; now they were surrounded on all sides by a chattering crowd of men and women, with flushed faces or unnaturally pale, according as the effort of dancing affected each, and the indistinguishable din of hundreds of voices so filled the air that Giovanni and the Duchessa could hardly hear each other speak.

“This is intolerable,” said Giovanni, suddenly.  “You are not engaged for the last quadrille?  Shall we not go away until the cotillon begins?”

Corona hesitated a moment, and was silent.  She glanced once at Giovanni, and again surveyed the moving crowd.

“Yes,” she said at last; “let us go away.”

“You are very good,” answered Giovanni in a low voice, as he offered her his arm.  She looked at him inquiringly, and her face grew grave, as they slowly made their way out of the room.

At last they came to the conservatory, and went in among the great plants and the soft lights.  There was no one there, and they slowly paced the broad walk that was left clear all round the glass-covered chamber, and up and down the middle.  The plants were disposed so thickly as to form almost impenetrable walls of green on either side; and at one end there was an open space where a little marble fountain played, around which were disposed seats of carved wood.  But Giovanni and Corona continued to walk slowly along the tiled path.

“Why did you say I was good just now?” asked Corona at last.  Her voice sounded cold.