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'Tis a queer being with whom he dances,--here comes a
queen, see, she stops beneath thee,--sh--'Constance,' my lord devil
calls her, 'Constance'; what thinkest thou, is she not beautiful?"
"See the bones in her neck, Janet, they protrude like pulpy blisters,
and she looks flat of chest for a waist so abbreviated."
"I see thine eyes are ever upon nature, and 'tis best if thy gaze can
penetrate the heart as well."
"Surely we have intuition, and I like not Constance."
"How about my lord with the rose?"
"I like him."
"Oh, impressionable youth! 'thou art the gilded sand from which the
kiss of a wave washes every impress.' Tune thy myriad atoms to imitate
the rock, and gird thyself with strength to meet the battery of
onrushing breakers that grind against thee! Be careful, my Lambkin,
fall not in love with the first handsome face thou seest." The music
ceased; there was naught of sound, but a babble of voice and soft, gay
laughter. The guests passed up the grand stairway, and between the
pillars that guarded the entrance to the vaulted gallery beyond.


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