She pouted. “And you won’t tell me! So many people I’ve guessed; oh, at once! There is Tony, for instance.”
She nodded towards a massive figure in a grey domino. “There is no mistaking him, to be sure. And I think I know which is Mr. Merriot. I thought that lady in the blue domino was his sister, but of that I am not sure. Do you know, sir?”
“No, mademoiselle, but then I do not want to know. I am content to have found Miss Grayson.”
She blushed, and turned away her head.
“I offend Miss Grayson?” the Unknown said softly.
No, she was not offended. Only—only it was so very strange not to know who he was.
“My name you would not know if I told it,” he said. “Why spoil a perfect hour?”
Her lips were a little parted. “A perfect hour!” she echoed. “Is it perfect, sir?”
“For me at least, Letitia.”
“But—but you must not call me by my name!” she said. Yet she did not sound angry.
“Nor tell you that I came only to dance with you?”
“D-did you, sir?”
He nodded. “But, of course. Didn’t you guess it, Letitia?”
“No, oh no! How should I? And—and you use my name again, sir.”
“But then it is such a pretty name,” he pleaded. “Make me free of it for one night!”
“It is like an adventure,” she said. Behind the mask her eyes were like stars.
“An adventure, or a dream.” He led her out of the dance, away to an alcove behind great pots of flowers.
“Not a dream! Oh no, for then I should wake up, and I do not want to. I want to see your face at the unmasking.”
“You won’t see it, Letitia; I shall remain the Unknown.”
She sat down on the couch placed in the alcove. “But you will have to unmask, won’t you? Everyone must.”
He smiled, and shook his head. “To unmask would be to kill Romance, Letitia.”
She was doubtful. “Would it? But how shall I know you again if I do not see your face tonight?”
“Ah, but will you want to know me again? Or will you not regret the perfect hour?”
“No, I am sure I shall not. And of course I shall want to know you again. Shall you not want to know me?”
“Always, but I have you in my dreams, Letitia.”
She blushed adorably. “Do you know, that is the very prettiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she confided. “But I would like—I mean, I do not want to live only in your dreams. Shan’t you wait upon my papa?”
The white teeth showed again in a smile of some mischief. “L’Inconnu never waits upon papa,” he said. “You will remember me only as a Black Domino.”
Her face fell. “I shan’t see you again?”
“Yes, you will see me—perhaps.”
“And know you?”
He hesitated; then laughed, and stretched out his hand. “When you see that ring again, Letitia, you will know that I have come once more.”
She looked down at the ring on his little finger, a curious piece of wrought gold in a fantastic design. “Only by that?”
“Only by that.”
“But—” she considered awhile. “You might forget to wear it,” she pointed out.
“I shall not forget.”
She sighed. “It is all so mysterious. I fear perhaps it is just a game, and I shan’t ever see you again.”
He quoted a Spanish proverb.
“Oh, are you foreign?” she exclaimed, as though that explained all.
“No, child, but I have been much in foreign lands.”
“How exciting!” she said. “Tell me about it.”
But a large figure stood in the entrance to the alcove, and a pleasant voice said: “Mistress Pink Domino, will you give your hand to a Grey one?”
L’Inconnu came to his feet, and bowed gracefully. “I surrender you,” he said. “But only for a little while.”
Sir Anthony held out his arm to Miss Grayson, and looked curiously at the Black Domino.
Miss Grayson went reluctantly, saying over her shoulder: “I believe you will disappear.”
“I shall claim you again, be very sure.”
“Who in the fiend’s name may that be?” said Sir Anthony.
“I don’t know, Tony. He is just called l’Inconnu, but he knows me and I have a feeling I have met him. You don’t know, either?”
“I haven’t a notion, my dear. I am not quite sure that I approve of unknown gentlemen.”
Her eyes pleaded. “Oh, don’t, don’t tell Aunt, Tony!” she begged. “Truly, I am not being indiscreet.”
“You don’t contemplate an elopement with the mysterious stranger?” he asked teasingly.
“Tony!”
“I beg your pardon,” he bowed solemnly.
“That was prodigiously ill-natured, Tony.”
“Never say so, my dear.”
“I have a very good mind not to dance with you now.”
She was conducted promptly to an antechamber, where there were refreshments spread. “An excellent mind,” said Sir Anthony. “I was never a good dancer. A glass of ratafie?”
She laughed. “It’s too bad of you, Tony!”
“My dear, it would be worse if I stood up with you, I assure you. My forte lies in fetching food and drink for my partners.”
She sat down, perforce. “Well, a little ratafie, then. I do not intend to go near Aunt again all the evening. She may scold as much as she likes afterwards.”
Sir Anthony poured two glasses of wine. “She’s absorbed in euchre, child; you need have no fear. I drink to your very good health.”
Letty sipped at the wine, and dimpled haughtily. “You might drink to my eyes, Tony.”
“No doubt I might,” he said, but showed no disposition to do so.
Letty looked meditatively up at him. “I wonder whether you will ever say pretty things?” she said, aggrieved.
“Not to you, minx.”
“I know that. But to someone else?”
“My dear, I doubt I haven’t the aptitude for it. I will tell you if ever I discover it in myself.”
“I don’t suppose you will. Tell me, I mean,” said Letty with a flash of insight.
“There’s no knowing. I’m to understand your ear’s been tickled with pretty speeches tonight?”
She spread out her fan, and began to trace the pattern on it with one rosy-tipped finger. “I shan’t
