the flattery such a man invariably obtains from his inferiors, is a dangerous and subtle temptation. The more I studied him, the stronger grew this conviction,--nay, at times, the expression of scorn upon his handsome features was legible even to the least remarking. It was while I still continued to watch him that he passed me, with a dark, Spanish-looking girl upon his arm, When he turned round suddenly, and, staring at me fixedly a few seconds, said, "We met once before, to-day." "I am not aware of it," said I, doubtingly. "Yes, yes. I never forget a face, least of all when it resembles yours. I saw you this morning at the 'Picayune.'" "True, I was there." "What a precious set of rascals those fellows were! You supposed that they were going to join the expedition. Not a bit of it. Some were gamblers; the greater number thieves and pickpockets. I know them all; and, indeed, I was going to warn you about them, for I saw you were a stranger, but I lost sight of you in the crowd. But there's the music. Will you have a partner?" "With all my heart," said I, glad to encourage our further acquaintance. "You speak Spanish?" "Not a word." "Well, no matter. If you did, you should have mine here. But what say you to Mademoiselle Héloïse, yonder?--a bit faded or so; but I remember her second 'Ballarina' at the Havana, only two years back." I made the suitable acknowledgment; and the next moment saw me whirling away in a waltz, at least in such an approximation to that measure as my Quebec experience suggested, with a very highly rouged and black-eyebrowed "danseuse." My French was better than my dancing; and so Mademoiselle Héloïse was satisfied to accept my arm, while we paraded the room, discussing the company after the most approved fashion. The French have a proverb, "Bête comme une danseuse;" and I must say that my fair friend did not prove an exception. Her whole idea of life was limited to what takes place in rehearsal of a morning, or on the night of representation. She recounted to me her history from the time she had been a "Rat,"--such is the technical term at the Grand Opera of Paris,--flying through the air on a wire, or sitting perilously perched upon a pasteboard cloud. Thence she had advanced to the state of Fairy Queen, or some winged messenger of those celestials who wear muslin trousers with gold stars, and always stand in the "fifth position." Passing through the grade of Swiss peasant, Turkish slave, and Neapolitan market-girl, she had at last arrived at the legitimate drama of "legs," yclept "ballet d'action;" and although neither her beauty nor abilities had been sufficient to achieve celebrity in Paris, she was accounted a Taglioni in the "provinces," and deemed worthy of exportation to the colonies.