She turned her eyes on him as one coming out of a dream.
"I have never enjoyed a dance so much in my life," she said seriously.
He laughed.
"It must have been an inspiration--" he began, and checked himself, with a glance over his shoulder at the painted panel behind them.
"You were saying--" She looked up after a moment.
"Nothing.

Listen to the Ting-tang!" He drew aside one of the orange curtains, and Dorothea heard the note of a bell clanging in a distant street.

"Time for all good prisoners to be in bed, and Heaven temper the wind to the thin blanket! It is snowing--snowing furiously." "Do they suffer much in these winters ?" He shrugged his shoulders.
"They die sometimes, though your brother does his best to prevent it.
It promises to be a hard season for them." "I wish I could help; but Endymion--my brother does not approve of ladies mixing themselves up in these affairs." "Yet he has carried off half-a-dozen to the supper-room, where at a side table three of my compatriots are vending knick-knacks, to add a little beef to their _ragouts_." "Is it that which has annoyed General Rochambeau ?" She had recognised the phrase, but let it pass.
"It is." She understood.

For some reason her brain was unusually clear tonight.
At any other time she would have defended, or at least excused, her brother.

She knew it, and found time to wonder at her new practicality as she answered: "I must think of some way to help." She saw his brow clear--saw that had risen in his esteem--and was glad.
"To you, Mademoiselle, we shall find it easy to be grateful." "By helping them," she explained, "I may also be helping my brother.
You do not understand him as I do, and you sharpen your wit upon him," "Be assured it does not hurt him, Mademoiselle." "No, but it hurts _me_." He bowed gravely.
"It shall not hurt you, again.