than any blossoms were the guests, some of whom she recognised as having come from the Gaiety as she and Violet had.
Lottie Collins was there and several other Leading Actresses, all flashing with jewels and wearing gowns that were as spectacular as those that they had worn on stage.
As the evening wore on, Leading Ladies from other Theatres, many of whose names Davita recognised, although not their faces, arrived for the party.
Champagne was being handed round, and about twenty minutes after they had arrived they went into a Dining-Room which led off the room in which they had been received and which was arranged like a Restaurant.
There was a table in the centre, at which the Prince sat with a dozen of his guests, and in addition there were small tables for six, four, and even two. The only light was from the candles on the tables, which gave the room an air of mystery.
At the same time, there was an atmosphere of irrepressible gaiety enhanced by the music.
There were two Bands: one played dreamy, romantic waltzes; the other, a Gypsy Orchestra, wild, passionate, exciting, made the heart beat to the clash of the cymbals and the throb of the drums.
To Davita it was very exciting, and as the Prince introduced her not to one young man but to half-a-dozen, she thought what an excellent host he was, and how because she was never without a partner it was easy to keep away from Lord Mundesley.
In fact, he made no effort to talk to her either intimately or otherwise, but devoted himself to Violet, and when the dancing started he apparently had no wish to leave her for anybody else.
Supper was over before the curtains at one end of the Dining-Room were drawn back to reveal a Dance-Floor.
Those who wished to do so could continue to sit at their tables, drinking or eating, but still could get up and dance as it suited them.
To Davita’s delight, the men to whom the Prince had introduced her were only too eager to ask her to dance with them.
U p until now, although she had had dancing-lessons occasionally in Edinburgh, because her mother had said it was essential that she should be a good dancer, she had danced at home, only with her father.
Now for the first time she was able to dance with not one young man but a dozen, and she found it an exhilarating experience.
“You are as light as thistledown,” one told her as she was swept round the room to the strains of a Strauss waltz.
It was so thrilling that she forgot her fears about Lord Mundesley, and it was only when she was being whirled round the floor by a tall young man who she learnt was in the Brigade of Guards that she saw the Marquis seated at a table beside her host.
She had not seen him arrive, and she was quite certain he had not been there at supper.
But now, looking as usual cynical and contemptuous of everybody round him, he was beside the Prince, a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.
As she looked at him she found that he was looking at her, and she felt that in some way he had mesmerised her into being aware of him.
She almost missed a step, then heard her partner say:
“You have not given me an answer to my question.”
“I am sorry,” Davita replied. “What was it you asked me?”
“Who are you thinking about?” her partner enquired. “Whoever it is, it is not me.”
“I am sorry,” Davita said again.
He smiled at her, saying:
“I forgive you. How could I do anything else when you look so lovely?”
Davita did not feel either shy or embarrassed as she had when Lord Mundesley had paid her compliments.
Then once again she was glancing across the room at the Marquis and wondering why Violet and Lord Mundesley had been so keen for him to come to the party when they hated him so much.
“This is my night of gaiety,” she told herself.
A bout two hours later, as she waltzed round the room Davita realised she had not seen Violet and Lord Mundesley for some time.
T hen as she looked for them she saw that they were at
Lottie Collins was there and several other Leading Actresses, all flashing with jewels and wearing gowns that were as spectacular as those that they had worn on stage.
As the evening wore on, Leading Ladies from other Theatres, many of whose names Davita recognised, although not their faces, arrived for the party.
Champagne was being handed round, and about twenty minutes after they had arrived they went into a Dining-Room which led off the room in which they had been received and which was arranged like a Restaurant.
There was a table in the centre, at which the Prince sat with a dozen of his guests, and in addition there were small tables for six, four, and even two. The only light was from the candles on the tables, which gave the room an air of mystery.
At the same time, there was an atmosphere of irrepressible gaiety enhanced by the music.
There were two Bands: one played dreamy, romantic waltzes; the other, a Gypsy Orchestra, wild, passionate, exciting, made the heart beat to the clash of the cymbals and the throb of the drums.
To Davita it was very exciting, and as the Prince introduced her not to one young man but to half-a-dozen, she thought what an excellent host he was, and how because she was never without a partner it was easy to keep away from Lord Mundesley.
In fact, he made no effort to talk to her either intimately or otherwise, but devoted himself to Violet, and when the dancing started he apparently had no wish to leave her for anybody else.
Supper was over before the curtains at one end of the Dining-Room were drawn back to reveal a Dance-Floor.
Those who wished to do so could continue to sit at their tables, drinking or eating, but still could get up and dance as it suited them.
To Davita’s delight, the men to whom the Prince had introduced her were only too eager to ask her to dance with them.
U p until now, although she had had dancing-lessons occasionally in Edinburgh, because her mother had said it was essential that she should be a good dancer, she had danced at home, only with her father.
Now for the first time she was able to dance with not one young man but a dozen, and she found it an exhilarating experience.
“You are as light as thistledown,” one told her as she was swept round the room to the strains of a Strauss waltz.
It was so thrilling that she forgot her fears about Lord Mundesley, and it was only when she was being whirled round the floor by a tall young man who she learnt was in the Brigade of Guards that she saw the Marquis seated at a table beside her host.
She had not seen him arrive, and she was quite certain he had not been there at supper.
But now, looking as usual cynical and contemptuous of everybody round him, he was beside the Prince, a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.
As she looked at him she found that he was looking at her, and she felt that in some way he had mesmerised her into being aware of him.
She almost missed a step, then heard her partner say:
“You have not given me an answer to my question.”
“I am sorry,” Davita replied. “What was it you asked me?”
“Who are you thinking about?” her partner enquired. “Whoever it is, it is not me.”
“I am sorry,” Davita said again.
He smiled at her, saying:
“I forgive you. How could I do anything else when you look so lovely?”
Davita did not feel either shy or embarrassed as she had when Lord Mundesley had paid her compliments.
Then once again she was glancing across the room at the Marquis and wondering why Violet and Lord Mundesley had been so keen for him to come to the party when they hated him so much.
“This is my night of gaiety,” she told herself.
A bout two hours later, as she waltzed round the room Davita realised she had not seen Violet and Lord Mundesley for some time.
T hen as she looked for them she saw that they were at
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