At the end of January the first
ball of the Spanish embassy took place. Pilar's whole set was
invited, and she could not well absent herself without exciting
remark. She therefore made the necessary preparations for the
festivity. A diadem of brilliants was sent to be reset, a
sensational gown composed, after repeated conferences with a great
ladies' tailor, a pattern in seed pearls chosen for the embroidery
of the long gloves. Don Pablo galloped about like a post-horse from
morning till night; gorgeous vans, with liveried attendants, from
the fashionable shops stopped constantly at the door to deliver
parcels; there was an unceasing stream of messengers, shop people,
and needlewomen. But Wilhelm was oblivious of it all; Pilar did not
trouble him with such frivolous matters. It was not till the very
day of the ball that she handed him the card of invitation she had
procured for him at the embassy, and asked, as a precaution:
"You have all you require, have you not?"
Wilhelm glanced at the pink, glazed card.
"But, Pilar, do you know me so little?"
"I know that you do not care for these stupid entertainments," she
answered coaxingly, "but I thought you would go to please me."
"So you are going?" he asked.
"I must," she replied.
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