“I gave the deed to Jasper,” said Adrien, looking down upon her with distaste, and vaguely wondering how he could ever have endured such a woman near him.

“You gave it to Jasper, did you?” said Ada, pulling or rather tugging off her mask viciously, as she spoke.  “Hang me if I didn’t think so all the time!” she exclaimed with a sudden change of tactics.  “That Jasper’s a thief.  I heard you say something about those deeds, and Jasper told me a long rigmarole that you wouldn’t sign them.  Whether that’s true or not, Heaven only knows.  Jasper’s a bad one, an’ he’s sold me.  He’s got the coin, and I’ll split on him, as I threatened.  No, it’s no use your trying to make me hush up, I will speak out.  I’ll show you what a fool he’s made of you, you who have been so good to him; I’ll tell you a thing or two as will open your eyes a bit wider than they are now.  I’ll—­”

“Be quiet!” said Adrien.  “Not another word—­there is some mistake.  Jasper has forgotten, he has some reason for not giving it to you.  He shall explain directly I can reach town.  You shall have the money and the theatre, that I promise you; you know I have never broken my word yet.  Now you must go.  Every moment you stay increases your danger.  My father is old-fashioned perhaps, but he would regard this as the greatest insult, and would punish it severely.  You are no fool, Ada.  How could you have done such a mad thing?  Hush! slip on that domino.”  He pointed to a black masque cloak, and rang the bell.  “Get away as quickly as possible,” he went on as, now thoroughly subdued, she put on the cloak.  “You shall have the money, I swear it.”

On the servant entering, he hastily gave directions for her to be driven to the station; then without another word to her, he returned to the ball-room, just as his father’s voice was heard inquiring for him.

“Ah! there, you are, my boy.  I wondered if anything had gone wrong.  Are you ill?” He gazed keenly at Adrien’s pale, unmasked face.

“No, sir, it is rather hot though in this dress,” he returned hurriedly, hating even the very semblance of a lie.  “I believe Constance is waiting for me,” he continued.  “Ah, yes, there she is.  The ball is going off well, don’t you think so?”

His father nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “your friends are pronouncing it to be a success.  Mr. Paxhorn declares it is a vision of the period.  But Constance is waiting.”

Replacing his mask, Adrien made his way to his cousin, who, as usual, was surrounded by a small group of courtiers.  She glanced up as he approached and, with a smile to the rest, took his proffered arm.  As he looked at her sweet face, a thrill ran through him at the purity of her beauty—­so great a contrast to that of the woman he had just dismissed that he loathed the very thought of ever having touched her hand.  In that moment, the love he bore Constance welled up passionately in his heart, refusing to be suppressed, and again he tore off the velvet mask.