BARBARA DANCES THE CORANTO
Howard, Russell, and Jermyn, to say nothing of Captain Ferrers, who had brought her there in his coach.
It was a very merry dance, better suited to young legs than to old, and Mistress Barbara, with a rare grace, put even his grace’s spryness to the test. Monsieur Mornay, who had just come in, made to himself the solemn promise that if it lay in his power she should favor him upon that evening. If he suspected that she would receive him with an ill grace, he did not show it, for he made no scruple to hide his open admiration as she danced along the gallery. Twice she passed the spot where he stood, and once she looked quite through him at the blank wall behind. But, unabashed, when the dance was done he lost no time in letting the Duke of Dorset know that he wished to be presented, in such a manner that recognition would be unavoidable.
“With all the good-will in the world,” said his grace. “Another moth to the flame,” he laughed. “Another star to the constellation.
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