“Then it is quite tame?” “At that time of year, but in winter nights it is sometimes almost wild.” “Ah, I daresay. They often are, I know.” “The architects and their wives love it as we do.” “Do they? How very fortunate!” “We should hate to miss it even for a moment.” “Oh, Mr. Vivian!” whispered Lady Julia, “this is dreadful. I’m almost sure he’s brought it with him.” “No, no. It’s not alive.” “A dead mouse!” “It’s a river.” “A river! But he said it was a mouse.” “It’s both. Mr. Sagittarius,” added the Prophet, in a loud and desperate tone of voice, “you’ll find this champagne quite dry. You needn’t be afraid of it.” “Did you get it from by the rabbit shop, sir?” asked Mr. Sagittarius, lifting his glass. “I ordered a dozen in, only the day before yesterday.” Lady Julia began to tremble. “I see,” she whispered to the Prophet. “His mania is about animals.” Meanwhile the Prophet had made a warning face at Mr. Sagittarius, who suddenly remembered his danger and subsided, glancing uneasily at Sir Tiglath, whose intention of addressing him had been momentarily interfered with by a sweetbread masked in a puree of spinach. Madame Sagittarius, assisted by food and dry champagne, was now--as the Prophet perceived with horror--beginning to feel quite at her ease. She protruded her elbows, sat more extensively in her chair, rolled her prominent eyes about the room as one accustomed to her state, and said, with condescension, to Lady Julia,-- “Is your ladyship to make one of the party at the Zoological Gardens to-night?” Lady Julia, who now began to suppose that Mr. Sagittarius’s crazy passion for animals was shared by his wife, gasped and answered,-- “Are you going to the Zoological Gardens?” “Yes, to an assembly. It should be very pleasant. Do you make one?” “I regret that I am not invited,” said Lady Julia, rather stiffly. Madame bridled, under the impression that she was scoring off a member of the aristocracy. “Indeed,” she remarked, with a click. “Yet I presume that your ladyship is not insensible to the charms of rout and collation?” “I beg your pardon?” said Lady Julia, beginning to look like an image made of cast iron. “I imagine that the social whirl finds in your ladyship a willing acolyte?” “Oh, no. I go out very little.” “Indeed,” said Madame, with some contempt. “Then you do not frequent the Palace?” “The Palace! Do you mean the Crystal Palace?” “Of Buckingham? You are not an _amicas curiae_?” “I fear I don’t catch your meaning.” “Does not your ladyship comprehend the Latin tongue?” “Certainly not,” said Lady Julia, who was born in an age when it was considered highly improper for a young female to have any dealings with the ancients. “Certainly not.” “Dear me!” said Madame, with pitying amazement. “You hear her ladyship, Jupiter?”