The ball was in a huge vault of a room which had once been a granary.  The stone floor had been worn smooth by many feet and several centuries, and the blank gray walls were brightened with drapery of flags, yards of coloured cotton, paper flowers and evergreens, arranged with an effect which none save Latin hands could have given.  Dinner above and below stairs was early, and before ten the guests began to assemble in the ballroom.  All the servant-world had dined in ball costume, excepting Jack and myself, and it was only at the last minute that the cricket hopped upstairs and wriggled into its neatly reduced lobster shell.

I had visions of my brother lurking gloomily yet observantly in obscure corners, ready at any moment for a sortie in my defence; but when I sneaked, sidled, and slid into the ballroom, making myself as small as possible that I might pass unobserved in spite of my sensational redness, I had a surprise.  Near the door stood the chauffeur in evening dress, out-princing and out-duking every prince and duke among the Marquise de Roquemartine’s guests.  And I, who hadn’t even known that he possessed evening clothes, could not have opened my eyes wider if my knight had appeared in full armour.

I had broken the news of the scarlet dress to him, nevertheless I saw it was a shock.  To each one, the other was a new person, as we stood and talked together.  I said not a word about my scene with Bertie, for there was trouble enough between the two already; but when Jack told me that, if I were asked to dance by anyone objectionable, I must say I was engaged to him, I knew which One loomed largest and ugliest in his mind.

A glance round the big, bright room showed me many strangers.  All were servants, however, for the grand people had not yet come down to play their little game of condescension.  A band from Clermont-Ferrand was making music, but the ball was to be opened by the marquise and her guests, who were to honour their servants by dancing the first dance with them.  Each noble lady was to select a cook, butler, footman, chauffeur, or groom, according to her pleasure; and each noble lord was to lead out the female worm which least displeased his eye.

Hardly had I time to dive deep into the wave of domesticity, when the great moment arrived, and a spray of aristocracy sprinkled the top of that heavy wave, with the dazzling sparkle of its jewels and its beauty.  Really it was a pretty sight!  I had to admire it; and in watching the play of light and colour I forgot my private worries until I saw Bertie bowing before me.

The marquise had just honoured her own butler.  The marquis was offering his arm to the housekeeper; the Duc de Divonne had led out Miss Nelson’s bilious maid, appalling in apple-green:  Miss Nelson was returning the compliment by giving her hand to his valet:  why should not this young gentleman dance with his step-mother-in-law’s maid?

There seemed no reason why not, except the maid’s disinclination; and sudden side-slip of the brain caused by the glassy impudence in Mr. Stokes’s eye so disturbed my equilibrium that I forgot Jack’s offer.  He did not forget, however—­it would hardly have been Jack, if he had—­but stepped forward to claim me as I began to stammer some excuse.