The preparations for my marriage now went on apace,--shoals of presents began to arrive for Sibyl as well as for myself, and I was introduced to an hitherto undemonstrated phase (as far as I personally was concerned) of the vulgarity and hypocrisy of fashionable society. Everyone knew the extent of my wealth, and how little real necessity there was for offering me or my bride-elect costly gifts; nevertheless, all our so-called 'friends' and acquaintances, strove to outvie each other in the gross cash-value, if not in the good taste, of their various donations. Had we been a young couple bravely beginning the world on true love, in more or less uncertainty as to our prospects and future income, we should have received nothing either useful or valuable,--everyone would have tried to do the present-giving in as cheap and mean a way as possible. Instead of handsome services of solid silver, we should have had a meagre collection of plated teaspoons; instead of costly editions of books sumptuously enriched with fine steel engravings, we might possibly have had to express our gratitude for a ten-shilling Family Bible. Of course I fully realized the actual nature and object of the lavish extravagance displayed on this occasion by our social 'set,'--their gifts were merely so many bribes, sent with a purpose which was easy enough to fathom. The donors wished to be invited to the wedding in the first place,--after that, they sought to be included in our visiting-list, and foresaw invitations to our dinners and house-parties;--and more than this they calculated on our influence in society, and the possible chance there might be in the dim future of our lending some of them money should pressing occasion require it. In the scant thankfulness and suppressed contempt their adulatory offerings excited, Sibyl and I were completely at one. She looked upon her array of glittering valuables with the utmost weariness and indifference, and flattered my self-love by assuring me that the only things she cared at all for were the riviére of sapphires and diamonds I had given her as a betrothal-pledge, together with an engagement-ring of the same lustrous gems. Yet I noticed she also had a great liking for Lucio's present, which was a truly magnificent masterpiece of the jeweller's art. It was a girdle in the form of a serpent, the body entirely composed of the finest emeralds, and the head of rubies and diamonds. Flexible as a reed, when Sibyl put it on, it appeared to spring and coil round her waist like a living thing, and breathe with her breathing. I did not much care for it myself as an ornament for a young bride,--it seemed to me quite unsuitable,--but as everyone else admired it and envied the possessor of such superb jewels, I said nothing of my own distaste. Diana Chesney had shown a certain amount of delicate sentiment and refinement in her offering,--it was a very exquisite marble statue of Psyche, mounted on a pedestal of solid silver and ebony.