low smoke and indulge in it, and who have wit but lack wisdom. I
was not in high glee at the prospect of accompanying Cosmo Bertram to
his free dancing party.

They are all very much alike. The fifteen sous basket, to use Dumas'
fine illustration, in Paris, is very like the Vienna, the Berlin, or the
London basket. The ladies are beautiful, exquisitely dressed, vivacious,
and, early in the evening, well-mannered. At the outset you might think
yourself at your embassy; at the close you catch yourself hoping you
will get away safely. Shrill voices pipe in corners of the room. "_On
sautera!_" People are jumping with a vengeance. The paint is disturbed
upon your partner's face. Pretty lips speak ugly words. _Honi soit qui
mal y pense;_ but then the gentleman is between two and three wines, and
the lady is rallying him because he has sense enough left to be a
little modest. A couple sprawl in a waltz. A gentleman roars a toast.
The hostess prays for less noise. An altercation breaks out in the
antechamber. Two ladies exchange slaps on the face, and you thank madame
for a charming evening.

The next morning you are besieged, at your club, for news about
Aspasia's reception. She did the honours _en souveraine_; but it is
really a pity she will not be less attentive to the champagne.
Everything would have gone off splendidly if that little _diablesse_
Titi had not revived her feud with Fanchette. You are not surprised to
hear that Aspasia's goods were seized this morning. The duke must have
had more than enough of it by this time, and has, of course, discovered
that he has been the laughing-stock of his friends for a long time past.
Over the absinthe tripping commentary Aspasia sinks from the Chasusee
d'Antin to the porter's lodge. A little _creve_ taps his teeth with the
end of his cane, blinks his tired, wicked eyes, like a monkey in the
sun, through his _pince-nez_, and opines, with a sharp relish, that
Aspasia is destined to sweep her five stories--well.

Pah! What kind of discourse is all this for born and bred gentlemen to
hold in these days, when the portals of noble knowledge lie wide open,
and every man may grace his humanity with some special wisdom of his
own!

Bertram, a ribbon in his buttonhole, and arrayed to justify his fame as
one of the best-dressed men in Paris, came in haste for me.

"We are late, my dear Q.M. This is not carnival time, remember. We jump
early."

The rooms were--but I cannot be at the