"Curious and not a little frightened at the arrival of the worldly company, the sylvans began to peep nervously at those subtle souls through the branches of the trees, and one or two fauns and a shepherd or so crept out warily. Sporion and all the ladies and gentlemen made enticing sounds and invited the rustic creatures with all the grace in the world to come and join them. By little batches they came, lured by the strange looks, by the scents and the drugs, and by the brilliant clothes, and some ventured quite near, timorously fingering the delicious textures of the stuffs. Then Sporion and each of his friends took a satyr or a shepherdess or something by the hand and made the preliminary steps of a courtly measure, for which the most admirable combinations had been invented and the most charming music written. The pastoral folk were entirely bewildered when they saw such restrained and graceful movements, and made the most grotesque and futile efforts to imitate them. Dio mio, a pretty sight! A charming effect too, was obtained by the intermixture of stockinged calf and hairy leg, of rich brocaded bodice and plain blouse, of tortured head-dress and loose untutored locks. "When the dance was ended the servants of Sporion brought on champagne, and with many pirouettes poured it magnificently into slender glasses, and tripped about plying those Arcadian mouths that had never before tasted such a royal drink. * * * * * "Then the curtain fell with a pudic rapidity."] [Footnote 4: _It is a thousand pities that concerts should only be given either in the afternoon, when you are torpid, or in the evening, when you are nervous. Surely you should assist at fine music as you assist at the Mass--before noon--when your brain and heart are not too troubled and tired with the secular influences of the growing day._] [Illustrations: THE THREE MUSICIANS] THE THREE MUSICIANS Along the path that skirts the wood, The three musicians wend their way, Pleased with their thoughts, each other's mood, Franz Himmel's latest roundelay, The morning's work, a new-found theme, their breakfast and the summer day. One's a soprano, lightly frocked In cool, white muslin that just shows Her brown silk stockings gaily clocked, Plump arms and elbows tipped with rose, And frills of petticoats and things, and outlines as the warm wind blows. Beside her a slim, gracious boy Hastens to mend her tresses' fall, And dies her favour to enjoy, And dies for _réclame_ and recall At Paris and St. Petersburg, Vienna and St. James's Hall.