With the
archduke, she was the brilliant woman of the world, witty, sarcastic,
adorable. He was enchanted with her; he declared that she combined all
the charms of English and French women; he danced with her and would
fain have lingered by her side, but that etiquette called him away.
Then Lady Amelie, already the belle of the ball, looked up, for Colonel
Mostyn was standing before her, and by his side one of the handsomest
and noblest young men she had ever seen. He introduced Basil Carruthers
to his fate.
She looked in his face with a smile, and drawing aside a fold of her
sumptuous dress, made room for him to sit near her.
He thought her even more dazzlingly beautiful than when he had seen her
at the opera. The perfume of the white daphnes must have touched his
senses as those most lovely eyes smiled into his; his brain seemed to
reel; he was intoxicated with her beauty as some men are with the fumes
of rare wine.
Colonel Mostyn lingered for a few minutes, then, well satisfied, went
away, leaving Basil and Lady Amelie together. She had taken her seat
under the shade of a magnificent mass of gorgeous, blooming flowers,
with wondrous leaves and rich perfume. As she sat with her gleaming
dress and jewels showing to perfection, from against this beautiful
background, Basil was completely charmed. In all his life he had never
even seen such a picture. She turned to him, when they were alone, with
the sweetest smile on her lovely lips; her eyes seemed to rain down
light into his.
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