One odd peculiarity of the vast circular salon must not be omitted, however. Above a gigantic white marble chimney, a veritable monument to the bold genius of David--our Michaël Angelo--were a number of allegorical figures in relief, representing arts and industries, and supporting a large oval frame incrusted in the entablature of the chimney. This frame enclosed a painting which might have been attributed to Velasquez. It was the portrait of a pale man, with a harsh, austere countenance, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and high, polished forehead; a brown gown, half in the style of a dressing gown and half way resembling the gown of a monk, gave the figure the imposing character of those saints and martyrs so numerous in the Spanish school of painting; an appearance emphasized, moreover, by a gold aureole which seemed to cast its dazzling reflections on the austere, pensive face. Below, traced in large, Gothic letters in a space formed by the foliage of the border, were these two words: SAINT RAMON. Still following the throng, the old mulatto finally found himself before this chimney. At sight of the portrait, he stood for a moment in amazement; then, overcome by emotion, tears filled his eyes and he murmured softly; "Poor friend! it is indeed he! But why the word _saint_ prefixed to his name? Why that aureole around his brow? Why this mystic appearance? And besides, what a strange celebration! Though poorly dressed, and a stranger, I entered without meeting resistance, or even an inquiry." At this moment a servant bearing fruits and ices approached and offered him refreshments, which he refused; he was striving, but in vain, to guess what might be the condition of the people around him. All the men were modestly attired; some in black frock-coats, others in new blouses, while a few wore the customary evening dress; all maintained a discreet reserve, though they expressed their delight to one another in low voices; and yet, strange to say, far from appearing amazed at the riches accumulated in this palace, they seemed perfectly at ease and not at all awed by the magnificence of their surroundings. The women and young girls, however, seemed more embarrassed and intimidated; they naively admired the splendor of the place and exchanged comments and observations in whispers. Anxious to penetrate this singular mystery, the old mulatto again approached the chimney and joined a group of guests who were contemplating the portrait of _Saint-Ramon_. "Do you see that portrait, Juliette?" a tall, robust man, with a good natured countenance, was asking his wife. "That good man is well entitled to his name. There are many saints in Paradise who are mere idlers beside him, if we are to judge by the good he has done." "How is that, Michel?" queried the wife, inquisitively.