The Car of Destiny

								

each party, to raise his mask for an instant. This, in order to keep out
reporters and intruders of all sorts; and his promise was to let me pass
in unchallenged. I might count on his good offices, not only in that way,
but in any other way possible, for "all the world loves a lover," said he.
And he wished me the best of luck, though he looked as if he hardly
expected me to have it.
Probably it was foolish and conceited, but I could not resist playing up
to the rôle Dick suggested. She was to be Juliet. I would be Romeo.
By this time, no doubt, the Duchess's invited guests had their costumes
well under way; I had to get mine, and the only way to have something
worthy of the occasion was to go to Paris for it. I did go, and was back
in Biarritz in two days.
The rest moved easily, without a hitch. The night of the ball came. I
dressed and went alone, rather than drag Dick into an affair which might
end disagreeably.
I did not put myself forward, but stood for a while and watched the
dancers, waiting for my chance.
Carmona had arrived the day before. I had never met him, but what I had
heard I did not like; and having seen him once or twice in London, at a
distance, he was recognizable in a costume copied from a famous portrait
of that Duke of Alba who loomed great in Philip the Second's day. Because
of a slight difference one from the other, in the height of his shoulders,
he was difficult to disguise; and though the arrangement of the costume
was intended to hide the peculiarity, it was perceptible.
When the "Duke of Alba" had danced twice in succession with Juliet
Capulet, I could bear my rôle of watcher no longer. Besides, I knew that I
had not much time to waste. For the sake of de la Mole, who had run the
risk of admitting a stranger, I must vanish before the hour for the masks
to fall. When I took off my cap and bowed before this white Juliet with
the pearl-laced plaits of gold, she gazed at me through her velvet mask in
the silence of surprise. I could not guess whether she puzzled herself as
to what was under my yellow-brown wig and my mask; but at least she must
know it was Romeo who begged a dance.
I did not urge my claim on such a plea, however, least it should rouse
Carmona's opposition, and cause him to keep the girl from me if he could.
I merely said, "The next is our dance," risking a rebuff; but it did not
come.
"Yes," she said, almost timidly. It was the first time I had heard her
speak, and her voice went to my heart.
The Duke stared, as though he would have stripped off my mask by sheer
force of curiosity. But he had to let the girl go; and as the music began
she was in my arms. I hardly dared believe my own luck. Neither of us
spoke. I was lost in the sense of her nearness, the knowledge that it was
the music which gave me the right to hold her thus, and that when the
music died I must let her go.
But a quick thought came. If we danced the waltz through, Carmona or