mysterious air which they provokingly assumed whenever they were
cross-examined on the internal arrangements of this mystical structure,
only increased the number and the wildness of the incidents which
daily were afloat respecting the fantastic profusion and scientific
dissipation of the youthful sultan and his envied viziers.

The town, ever since the season commenced, had been in feverish
expectation of the arrival of a new singer, whose fame had heralded her
presence in all the courts of Christendom. Whether she were an Italian
or a German, a Gaul or a Greek, was equally unknown. An air of mystery
environed the most celebrated creature in Europe. There were odd
whispers of her parentage. Every potentate was in turn entitled to the
gratitude of mankind for the creation of this marvel. Now it was an
emperor, now a king. A grand duke then put in his claim, and then an
archduke. To-day she was married, tomorrow she was single. To-day her
husband was a prince incog., to-morrow a drum-major well known. Even
her name was a mystery; and she was known and worshipped throughout the
whole civilised world by the mere title of '_The Bird of Paradise!_'

About a month before Easter telegraphs announced her arrival. The
Admiralty yacht was too late. She determined to make her first
appearance at the opera: and not only the young Duke, but even a
far more exalted personage, was disappointed in the sublime idea of
anticipating the public opinion by a private concert. She was to appear
for the first time on Tuesday; the House of Commons adjourned.

The curtain is drawn up, and the house is crowded. Everybody is there
who is anybody. Protocoli, looking as full of fate as if the French were
again on the Danube; Macaroni, as full of himself as if no other being
were engrossing universal attention. The Premier appears far more
anxious than he does at Council, and the Duke of Burlington arranges his
fanlike screen with an agitation which, for a moment, makes him forget
his unrivalled nonchalance. Even Lady Bloomerly is in suspense, and
even Charles Annesley's heart beats. But ah! (or rather, bah!) the
enthusiasm of Lady de Courcy! Even the young Guardsman, who paid her
Ladyship for her ivory franks by his idle presence, even he must have
felt, callous as those young Guardsmen are.

Will that bore of a tenor ever finish that provoking aria, that we have
heard so often? How drawlingly he drags on his dull, deafening--

_Eccola!_

Ha