n, who had become an abandoned smoker, and always smelt
infamously of cheroots. But the most serious defection, as also the most
unaccountable, was that of the beautiful Diana, _par excellence_ the
belle of the season, and assuredly the most graceful nymph that ever
tripped along the halls of heaven. She had gone off suddenly to the
country, without alleging any intelligible excuse, and with her the last
attraction of the ball-room seemed to have disappeared. Even Venus, the
perpetual lady patroness, saw that the affair was desperate.

"Ganymede, _mon beau garcon_," said she, one evening at an unusually
thin assembly, "we must really give it up at last. Matters are growing
worse and worse, and in another week we shall positively not have enough
to get up a tolerable gallopade. Look at these seven poor Muses sitting
together on the sofa. Not a soul has spoken to them to-night, except
that horrid Silenus, who dances nothing but Scotch reels."

"_Pardieu!_" replied the young Trojan, fixing his glass in his eye.
"There may be a reason for that. The girls are decidedly _passees_, and
most inveterate blues. But there's dear little Hebe, who never wants
partners, though that clumsy Hercules insists upon his conjugal rights,
and keeps moving after her like an enormous shadow. 'Pon my soul, I've a
great mind--Do you think, _ma belle tante_, that anything might be done
in that quarter?"

"Oh fie, Ganymede--fie for shame!" said Flora, who was sitting close to
the Queen of Love, and overheard the conversation. "You horrid, naughty
man, how can you talk so?"

"_Pardon, ma chere_!" replied the exquisite with a languid smile. "You
must excuse my _badinage_; and indeed, a glance of your fair eyes were
enough at any time to recall me to my senses. By the way, what a
beautiful _bouquet_ you have there. _Parole d'honneur_, I am quite
jealous. May I ask who sent it?"

"What a goose you are!" said Flora, in evident confusion: "how should I
know? Some general admirer like yourself, I suppose."

"Apollo is remarkably fond of hyacinths, I believe," said Ganymede,
looking significantly at Venus. "Ah, well! I see how it is. We poor
detrimentals must break our hearts in silence. It is clear we have no
chance with the _preux chevalier_ of heaven."

"Really, Ganymede, you are very severe this evening," said Venus with a
smile; "but tell me, have you heard anything of Diana?"

"Ah! _la belle Diane_? They say she is living in the country some