A good while into the evening, he asked me, "Would you like to go out to the hallway? It's so confining here".

I hesitated, not wanting to leave because I wouldn't be able to see the room, but I figured that it wouldn't matter if I slipped away for a few minutes. After all, so far, nothing had happened. I took Avellino's hand and said, "Sure."

Outside, in the hallway, it was much quieter than in the party, and I could hear vague snatches of people talking and laughing, with the band booming through the walls, loud enough for us to listen to it's muted resonance. Avellino took my waist and gently whirled me around. We began to dance to the soft music, our footsteps echoing in the marble hallway, stepping over swatches of brilliant moonlight pouring in from the windows and into patches of darkness. There was no one around, and it was tranquil. I don't know how long we danced, but then, perhaps a quarter-hour later, a voice rang out from the door near the ballroom.

"Stella! Where are you? Stella!" the rough voice belonging only to the Director roared.

I tore myself away from Avellino, racing into the ballroom to see him turning red.

"Come look for yourself," he howled, "The workroom... the... the tarp has been moved, oh, what about the painting?"

I pushed past everyone and raced in, scanning the room. The Director and several other museum members of staff filed in, beginning to look around. Some of the guests had noticed the commotion and started to murmur uncertainly, wondering what the fuss was about. The Director and his employees fruitlessly checked the room for missing paintings, even though we all knew something had to be gone. I could tell as several boxes had been spilled as if someone had gone through them in a rush. Suddenly, an impulse came over me. I dove to the floor, my fingers scrambling under the big chair to the left of the door. They returned with a piece of paper. I stood up and saw it read, "Come to the front entrance."

Then, from behind me, I heard Marguerite yell, "The Lilies! It's gone! The 18th-century one! Oh my, what else could be missing!" This revelation sent everyone into a frenzy. I remarkably managed to keep my composure, even though my ticket to art world stardom was missing. I looked back at the note. No one would notice I was gone. I pushed past the crowd gathered by the door, heading to the front of the entrance. I ran down the moonlit hallway that now, with the sick feeling that was growing in my stomach, no longer seemed romantic, no longer looked like night dotted with moonlight, but instead, like darkness swallowing up the moon.