"She is one of the most beautiful of her sex. She pleases the eye, and entertains the mind, without touching the heart. "Yet, it is a dangerous situation for any man to assume--this rôle of intimate friend to a lovely woman, which seems suddenly to have fallen to me. It would be wisdom on my part, and save no end of trouble, probably, if I took refuge in flight at once." Yet what man ever fled from such sweet danger? CHAPTER IX. JOURNALISTIC DISCUSSIONS. Percy did not "fly" for another month, and during that time seldom a day passed that he did not spend a portion of it with Mrs. Butler and Dolores. To the artistic rooms on the Avenue Josephine, where he was made to feel so perfectly at home, he sometimes brought a friend, and often found a bevy of bright people when he arrived. Dolores had formed a choice circle of acquaintances among the artists, musicians, and scholars, during her prolonged sojourn abroad. It seemed to Percy that he had never in his entire life before, met so many charming people as he encountered under Dolores's roof in that one month. There was as great a difference between the conventional society to which he had been accustomed, and the interesting clique which graced Dolores's parlors, as there is between a hotel bill of fare, and the _mênu_ prepared for the palate of an epicure. One, monotonous insipid and flavorless; the other, spiced, appetizing and varied. Among the score of people whom Dolores gathered together under her roof, there was a Mr. Elliott, a young English artist, a clever, cultured fellow, though something of a cockney; Monsieur Thoré, a famed historian and legislator; Madame Volkenburg, a middle-aged widow of a German professor, a lady of vast experience and wide culture, whose conversation overflowed with interesting reminiscences; and Homer Orton, an American journalist, genius and wit. Nowhere else, in no other class or profession, can be found so much talent, and so much wit, as exists among our American journalists, however they bury the former, and misdirect the latter gift. With a better understanding of "_noblesse oblige_," with a little more delicacy refining their wit, with a great deal more reverence for the sacredness of homes and personalities, to what heights might not these peerless minds elevate American journalism? "Do you know," said Mr. Elliott, one evening in Percy's presence, addressing the journalist, "do you know, Mr. Orton, you have greatly surprised me?" "Quite likely," responded Homer Orton, soberly gazing at his English friend. "We Americans have always been surprising you Englishmen ever since--but never mind dates. I should really like to know in what especial manner I have surprised you, Mr. Elliott?"