"Yes, I know,"--I replied readily--"Rimânez and I have visited her. She is away just now, or she would have been here to-day." "Do you like her?" Sibyl queried. "Very much. She is charming." "And ... the prince ... does he like her?" "Well, upon my word," I answered with a smile--"I think he likes her more than he does most women! He showed the most extraordinary deference towards her, and seemed almost abashed in her presence. Are you cold, Sibyl?" I added hastily, for she shivered suddenly and her face grew pale--"You had better come away from the river,--it is damp under these trees." "Yes,--let us go back to the gardens and the sunshine;"--she answered dreamily--"So your eccentric friend,--the woman-hater,--finds something to admire in Mavis Clare! She must be a very happy creature I think,--perfectly free, famous, and believing in all good things of life and humanity, if one may judge from her books." "Well, taken altogether, life isn't so very bad!" I observed playfully. She made no reply,--and we returned to the lawns where afternoon tea was now being served to the guests, who were seated in brilliant scattered groups under the trees or within the silken pavilions, while the sweetest music,--and the strangest, if people had only had ears to hear it,--both vocal and instrumental, was being performed by those invisible players and singers whose secret whereabouts was unknown to all, save Lucio. XXIV Just as the sun began to sink, several little pages came out of the house, and with low salutations, distributed among the guests daintily embossed and painted programmes of the 'Tableaux Vivants,' prepared for their diversion in the extemporized bijou theatre. Numbers of people rose at once from their chairs on the lawn, eager for this new spectacle, and began to scramble along and hustle one another in that effective style of 'high-breeding' so frequently exhibited at Her Majesty's Drawing-Rooms. I, with Sibyl, hastily preceded the impatient, pushing crowd, for I wished to find a good seat for my beautiful betrothed before the room became full to over-flowing. There proved however, to be plenty of accommodation for everybody,--what space there was seemed capable of limitless expansion, and all the spectators were comfortably placed without difficulty. Soon we were all studying our programmes with considerable interest, for the titles of the 'Tableaux' were somewhat original and mystifying. They were eight in number, and were respectively headed--'Society,'--'Bravery: Ancient and Modern,'--'A Lost Angel,'--'The Autocrat,'--'A Corner of Hell,'--'Seeds of Corruption,'--'His Latest Purchase,'--and 'Faith and Materialism.' It was in the theatre that everyone became at last conscious of the weirdly beautiful character of the music that had been surging round them all day. Seated under one roof in more or less enforced silence and attention, the vague and frivolous throng grew hushed and passive,--the