Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the military band of the evening, which now crossed the “lounge,” each man carrying his instrument with him; and these were followed by several groups of people in fancy dress, all ready and eager for the ball. Pierrots and Pierrettes, monks in drooping cowls, flower-girls, water-carriers, symbolic figures of “Night” and “Morning,” mingled with the counterfeit presentments of dead-and-gone kings and queens, began to flock together, laughing and talking on their way to the ball-room; and presently among them came a man whose superior height and build, combined with his eminently picturesque, half-savage type of beauty, caused every one to turn and watch him as he passed, and murmur whispering comments on the various qualities wherein he differed from themselves. He was attired for the occasion as a Bedouin chief, and his fierce black eyes, and close-curling, dark hair, combined with the natural olive tint of his complexion, were well set off by the snowy folds of his turban and the whiteness of his entire costume, which was unrelieved by any color save at the waist, where a gleam of scarlet was shown in the sash which helped to fasten a murderous-looking dagger and other “correct” weapons of attack to his belt. He entered the hall with a swift and singularly light step, and made straight for Denzil Murray. “Ah! here you are!” he said, speaking English with a slight foreign accent, which was more agreeable to the ear than otherwise. “But, my excellent boy, what magnificence! A Medici costume! Never say to me that you are not vain; you are as conscious of your good looks as any pretty woman. Behold me, how simple and unobtrusive I am!” He laughed, and Murray sprang up from the chair where he had been despondently reclining. “Oh, come, I like that!” he exclaimed. “Simple and unobtrusive! Why everybody is staring at you now as if you had dropped from the moon! You cannot be Armand Gervase and simple and unobtrusive at the same time!” “Why not?” demanded Gervase, lightly. “Fame is capricious, and her trumpet is not loud enough to be heard all over the world at once. The venerable proprietor of the dirty bazaar where I managed to purchase these charming articles of Bedouin costume had never heard of me in his life. Miserable man! He does not know what he has missed!” Here his flashing black eyes lit suddenly on Dr. Dean, who was “studying” him in the same sort of pertinacious way in which that learned little man studied everything. “A friend of yours, Denzil?” he inquired. “Yes,” responded Murray readily; “a very great friend--Dr. Maxwell Dean. Dr. Dean, let me introduce to you Armand Gervase; I need not explain him further!” “You need not, indeed!” said the doctor, with a ceremonious bow. “The name is one of universal celebrity.”