Her face and ears were completely hidden by her mask,
but, judging from the bit of neck that was visible, and other
indications, she was not over twenty-five. I let her pick the way, and
we led the others slowly around through the part of the Garden most
removed from the house and where the Masques were fewest. I took it,
that she had no desire to be prominent, and I was very well content.
She was a rare flirt, though--that, I knew, before we had gone a
hundred yards; and it kept my wits very busy to hold my own even
moderately well, and to keep from giving her any clue to my identity.
"Do you know, monsieur," she said, presently, "you and your friend are
not the only two men here, to-night, who are dressed alike?"
"Are they black knaves, too?" I asked.
She tapped me on the arm with her fan.
"Don't be sarcastic, my dear," she said; "though, I admit, we were very
forward."
"Nonsense!" I replied. "This is a Masque. Only, are you quite sure we
were the first men you bantered?"
"You forget, sir; Folly has no past," she said.
"A true word, mademoiselle," I agreed. "Shall it be so with us when we
part?"
She looked up at me a moment.
"Monsieur must be married," she laughed.
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