Roses and violets, in lavish profusion, fill every corner, are festooned around doors and windows, even along the walls and up the stairs, their perfume mingling with the music. And the music, dreamy yet voluminous, sways hither and thither a sea of maidens with snowy necks and shimmering jewels, floating gracefully about in the arms of anxious youths. These youths, although unspeakably happy, wear upon their faces, as is usual upon such occasions, an expression of corroding care. As a waltz came to an end, a tall, light-haired girl with crimson roses in her dress, dropped into a seat. She fanned herself rapidly as if to drive away a most becoming color that had taken possession of her cheeks. Her breath came quickly, the string of pearls upon her neck rising and falling as if sharing in the general joy. With her long throat, her well-poised head, and a certain dignity of unconscious pride she might be described as old-fashioned from her resemblance to a favorite type in the portraits of a century ago. Perhaps her prettiest feature was the low, wide forehead about which the hair seemed to advance and recede in exceptionally graceful lines. Her charm to those who know her but superficially was in her voice and manner, in the frankness of her eyes, and, above all perhaps, in that all-conquering charm, a total absence of self-consciousness. But whatever the reason, no girl in the room received more attention. Her partner, a sculptor with a bald head and a reputation, took the chair beside her. As her eyes wandered carelessly about the room she inquired, in an indifferent tone: “Who is that swarthy youth talking with Julia Bancroft?” “I don’t know. He looks like a foreigner.” Then he added, with more interest, “But isn’t he a beauty!” “Yes, his features are good.” “He is an Oriental of some sort, and doesn’t quite harmonize with a claw-hammer coat. He should wear an emerald-green nightcap with a ruby in the centre, about the size of a hen’s egg, a yellow dressing-gown and white satin trousers, all copiously sprinkled with diamonds.” She smiled. “Yes, and he might be interesting if he were not quite so handsome; but here he comes!” The youth in question, as he came down the room and passed them, seemed to be having a jolly time with his companion and he failed to notice the two people who were discussing him. It was a boyish face notwithstanding the regular features and square jaw, and at the present moment it wore a smile that betrayed the most intense amusement. When he was well out of hearing, the sculptor exclaimed: “He is the most artistic thing I ever saw! The lines of his eyes and nose are superb! And what a chin! I should like to own him!” “You couldn’t eat him.” “No, but I could put him on exhibition at five dollars a ticket. Every girl in New York would be there; you among them.”