She laughed her merry laugh. "Thank you! Thank you a hundred times! I've only one thing left to wish for."
She told him with a touch of shyness. "That--Apollo--will dance with me!"
Scott laughed and let her go. "Oh, is that all? Then I will certainly see that he does."
"I never repeat confidences," declared Scott. "Good-bye, _Signorina_!"
The _salon_ was a blaze of lights and many shifting colours. The fantastic crowd that trooped thither from the _salle-à-manger_ was like a host of tropical flowers. The talking and laughter nearly drowned the efforts of the string band in the far corner.
Scott in ordinary evening-dress stood near the door talking to an immense Roman Emperor, looking by contrast even smaller and more insignificant than usual. Yet a closer observation would have shown that the same instinctive dignity of bearing characterized them both. Utterly unlike though they were, yet in this respect it was not difficult to trace their brotherhood. Though moulded upon lines so completely dissimilar, they bore the same indelible stamp--the stamp of good birth which can never be attained by such as have it not. Sir Eustace Studley was the handsomest man in the room. His imperial costume suited his somewhat arrogant carriage. He looked like a man born to command. His keen eyes glanced hither and thither with an eagle-like intensity that missed nothing. He seemed to be on the watch for someone.
"Who is it?" asked Scott, with a smile. "The lady of the rink?"
The black brows went up haughtily for a moment, then descended in an answering smile. "She is the only woman I've seen here yet that's worth looking at," he observed.
"Don't you be too sure of that!" said Scott. "I can show you a little Italian peasant girl who is well worth your august consideration. I think you ought to bestow a little favour on her as you have each chosen to assume the same nationality."
Sir Eustace laughed. "A _protégée_ of yours, eh? That little brown girl, I suppose? Charming no doubt, my dear fellow; but ordinary--distinctly ordinary."
"You haven't seen her yet," said Scott. "You had your back to her in the _salle-à-manger._"
"Where is she then? You had better find her before the beautiful Miss de Vigne makes her appearance. I don't mind giving her a dance or two, but you must take her off my hands if we don't get on."