But the recollection is hateful, and I hurry on. The host was a tall, sinewy, middle-aged man, with a strongly-marked Hebraic cast of face, and an oily, obsequious manner, quite at variance with his prominent features. He greeted us with an air of the most profuse cordiality, and passed us along to a bevy of much-painted and overdressed, or, rather, underdressed women, who vied with each other in chattering society phrases. From the first moment, an undeniable air of dissoluteness pervaded the entire place, and I looked to the baron for an explanation. He pressed my arm nervously, and politely warned me to hold my tongue. There was no mistaking the animus of this party. It was revelry, riot, unrestraint. Answering a sign from the host, the baron soon left my side, and joined the convivialists, I being politely led to the main salon, where there was dancing. Pleading indisposition, I declined to take part, and remained aside observing the dancers. I noticed that many of the women were singularly lovely and exquisitely attired, but generally lacking in grace of movement and aplomb. I observed, also, groups of women, some of them deathly pale, others flushed with indignation, evidently discussing the situation, and the truth slowly dawned upon me that these were women of the demi-monde, and that I had been tricked into an attendance upon this reception. After two or three attempts I succeeded in bringing the baron to my side, much the worse for wine but quite docile. I demanded to be led to my dressing-room, and at first he temporized. Finding me insistent, he begged me to remain, promising to be among the first to depart at the proper hour. His conduct was unusually conciliatory, and when I referred to the character of the entertainment, his manner was full of conscious guilt, while he assured me that he would explain everything later, but that he dared not precipitate a scene by taking me home. At this juncture Count Volenfeldt, whom we knew, accompanied by the Prince of Waldeck, came our way, and, saluting, faced us, and, remarking somewhat satirically upon the unexpected numbers in attendance, gave me an opportunity to ask if his wife were present. “The countess is not here to-night,” replied the count, a little dryly. “She is not well.” “And my wife is here,” put in the prince bluffly, “but she will not be longer than till I shall have made my way through this crush.” “Let us join the prince’s party and leave this place at once,” said I.