Harrington took his sister through the drawing-rooms first; and she admired the unusual loftiness of the rooms, the blaze of white and gold, and of _ce'ladon_ and gold, and the great Russian lusters, and the mighty mirrors. But when they got to the dining-room she was enchanted. That lofty and magnificent _salon,_ with its daring mixture of red and black, and green and blue, all melted into harmony by the rivers of gold that ran boldly among them, went to her very heart. A Greek is half an Oriental; and Zoe had what may be called the courage of color. “Glorious!” she cried, and clasped her hands. “And see! what a background to the emerald grass outside and the ruby flowers. They seem to come into the room through those monster windows.” “Splendid!” said Harrington, to whom all this was literally Greek. “I'm so excited, I'll order dinner.” “Dinner!” said Zoe, disdainfully; and sat down and eyed the Moresque walls around her, and the beauties of nature outside, and brought them together in one picture. Harrington was a long time in conclave with M. Chevet. Then Zoe became impatient. “Oh, do leave off ordering dinner,” said she, “and take me out to that other paradise.” The Chevet shrugged his shoulders with pity. Vizard shrugged his too, to soothe him; and, after a few more hurried words, took the lover of color into the garden. It was delicious, with green slopes, and rich foliage, and flowers, and enlivened by bright silk dresses, sparkling fitfully among the green leaves, or flaming out boldly in the sun; and, as luck would have it, before Zoe had taken ten steps upon the greensward, the band of fifty musicians struck up, and played as fifty men rarely play together out of Germany. Zoe was enchanted. She walked on air, and beamed as bright as any flower in the place. After her first ejaculation at the sudden music, she did not speak for a good while; her content was so great. At last she said, “And do they leave this paradise to gamble in a room?” “Leave it? They shun it. The gamblers despise the flowers.” “How perverse people are! Excitement! Who wants any more than this?” “Zoe,” said Vizard, “innocent excitement can never compete with vicious.” “What, is it really wicked to play?”