But there was war between the houses in the play, and the young lover had to make a way to see his beloved, climbing a high wall into her garden, climbing to her very balcony by a scarf she flung down to him.

To the young woman from Amalon, these lovers' voices came with a strange compulsion, so that they played with her heart between them.

She was in turn the youth, pleading in a voice that touched every heart string from low to high; then she was the woman, soft and timid, hesitating in moments of delicious doubt, yet almost fearful of her power to resist, -- half-wishing to be persuaded, half-frightened lest she yield.
When the moment of surrender came, she became both of them; and, when they parted, it was as if her heart went in twain, a half with each, both to ache until they were reunited.

Between the acts she awoke to reality, only to say to herself: "So much I shall have to think about--so much--I shall never be able to think about it enough." Feverishly she followed the heart-breaking tragedy to its close, suffering poignantly the grief of each lover, suffering death for each, and feeling her life desolated when the end came.
But then the dull curtain shut her back into her own little world, where there was no love like that, and beside the little bent man she went out into the night.
The next morning had come a further delight, an invitation to a ball from Brigham.

Most of the day was spent in one of the shops, choosing a gown of wondrous beauty, and having it fitted to her.
[Illustration: FULL OF ZEST FOR THE MEASURE AS ANY YOUTH] When she looked into the little cracked mirror that night, she saw a strange new face and figure; and, when she entered the ballroom, she felt that others noted the same strangeness, for many looked at her until she felt her cheeks burn.