“Now,” said Plucritus, as the scene cleared, “I think it is time for lunch. Neither of us enjoyed our breakfast, and we shall eat all the more heartily.” We were by this time in a large, light, comfortable room, and on looking through the window I saw it faced on to a wide and handsome street, so long that I was unable to tell the length of it. On either side were mansions of great beauty, built in different styles and material, so that the effect was most strange and interesting. Many beautiful statues and worked columns ran down the centre, and arched colonnades, twined with rich creepers, ran nearer to the sides. Plucritus came and stood beside me. “It is a pity,” he observed. “You should witness some of our convocations and assemblies. We have a special roof designed to arch across from side to side. And it is worked from wealth and loveliness that all the nations of the earth could never buy. We do not meet again for some considerable time, and you may miss the sight.” “You think it probable I may leave you, then.” He smiled. “Well,” he said, “I have had a little study in medicines. I think you are going to die.” “That is consoling,” I remarked. “What will the transition lead me to?” “You know best yourself,” he said. During the repast he did not speak much; but when it was over he took me to a smaller room, a comfortable and private little place fitted with every luxury. There was a fire burning there, for always in the air, despite the many flowers that grew outside, there was a sharpness which was very pleasant to those who could appreciate it. He threw himself down on a sofa and I took an easy chair opposite to him. I was tired, with that weariness and lassitude which takes the place of bodily infirmity. After a while he took out a pipe and filled it with a substance from a cedar box upon the mantelpiece. “I will not offer you this,” he told me. “You would not appreciate it, though it is far superior to any earthly thing of the same class.” He lay back smoking in quiet contentment, and I watched him, a certain amount of interest keeping my eyes open, otherwise I should have fallen asleep. “What are you thinking about?” he asked at length. “Nothing particular. I was studying you to the best of my poor ability.” “Do you find me very beautiful?” “Is not the term misapplied? It would be more applicable to Vestné.” “And Vestasian?” “Well, perhaps so. He seemed to me a very curious combination.” “Yes. That is his chief charm. No matter how ill-tempered I may be (and you will have perceived I occasionally get that way), he always has the power to convert me once again to sublimity.” “Do you appreciate Vestasian’s wife?” I queried. “Oh! I see. You mean that pretty creature who comes to stay with him sometimes. Have you met her?” “No. He simply told me of her.”