“Centur is not interested in your beliefs,” he retorted; “and—oh, well, have it any way that’s tickling. She’s been waiting all her life for—er—you, dear boy.” He snickered, while I, with growing excitement, declared my intention of shirking the Observatory. “Bravo, Sally! my suggestion exactly,” Sheldon laughed. “The Observatory will come later; it always does—just one particular twinkler now; when that pales——.” A number of gentlemen unexpectedly joined us. Apparently they had been waiting for us somewhere and I was cheated out of my reply. Sheldon fairly shook with exasperating enjoyment as he manœuvred to prevent me getting any closer to him than a block. We were escorted to the museum, our way leading mostly through the vast gardens of the palace. From time to time along the route groups of gentlemen casually joined us until, as Sheldon elegantly expressed it, we ought to be tagged or the Pound might take us for the lost tribe of Roman-Jews and get rude. We strolled along in pairs and groups. I was tolled off to a set of pretty, babbling inconsequents, whose beauty, gracefulness and astonishing interest displayed in Sheldon’s witticisms impressed me rather favorably. I amused myself watching Saxe. as he cleverly juggled with the people he thought so little of, making them his friends; but finally bored into deep meditation completely forgot them all, even the beardless fashionables, whom the Centaurians considered my class, who, uneasy, at my absent-mindedness, uncongeniality, slyly slipped away one by one. Unnoticed I escaped down a side path, where a sea of pink bloom tempted me to wander in amazed admiration through a veritable forest of waxen lilies. But their roseate beauty, fragrance failed to lighten the gloom that now gripped desperately. For the first time in my life I realized my own individual worth. Stripped of wealth, the ruling deity of my world, I stood revealed an ordinaire without talent or inspiration, a dissatisfied nondescript riling at fate, limited in the higher treasures of enlightenment before which this fair, radiant land of mighty ideals kneeled. Saxe., Sheldon, Saunders and myself, had battled with northern horrors to discover—same evil old world of sordidness, shoddily veneered, ranting victory over impulse, but coveting, struggling, for the imaginary power of knowing all things. I had neglected to bring my one potent charm, and out of my sphere, bitter with disappointment, crazed with love-sickness, in a frenzy of desire I vowed—vowed to possess the One Woman, who from her pedestal of aloofness roused such reverential awe. She who would solve all mysteries shall realize the joy, sorrow of savagery.