butler--pardon! the chamberlain--was waiting for us downstairs at
the gate (it is possible that it was not for us he was waiting). He
conducted us up the staircase; from the staircase to the porch; from the
porch to the anteroom; from the anteroom to the drawing-room, where our
host was waiting to receive us.

I used to think that at home we were elegant people--that we lodged and
lived in style; but how poor I felt we were as we went through the rooms
of the Balnokhazys. The splendor only incited my admiration and wonder,
which was abruptly terminated by the arrival of the host and hostess and
their daughter, Melanie, by three different doors. The P. C. was a tall,
portly man, broad-shouldered, with black eyebrows, ruddy cheeks, a
coal-black moustache curled upward; he formed the very ideal I had
pictured to myself of a P. C. His hair also was of a beautiful black,
fashionably dressed.

He greeted us in a voice rich and stentorian; kissed grandmother;
offered his hand to my brother, who shook it; while he allowed me to
kiss his hand.

What an enormous turquoise ring there was on his finger!

Then my right honorable aunt came into our presence. I can say that
since that day I have never seen a more beautiful woman. She was then
twenty-three years of age; I know quite surely. Her beautiful face, its
features preserved with the enamel of youth, seemed almost that of a
young girl; her long blonde tresses waved around it; her lips, of
graceful symmetry, always ready for a smile; her large, dark blue, and
melancholy eyes shadowed by her long eyelashes; her whole form seemed
not to walk--rather fluttered and glided; and the hand which she gave me
to kiss was transparent as alabaster.

My cousin Melanie was truly a little angel. Her first appearance, to me,
was a phenomenon. Methinks no imagination could picture anything more
lovely, more ethereal than her whole form. She was not yet more than
eight years of age, but her stature gave her the appearance of some ten
years. She was slender, and surely must have had some hidden wings, else
it were impossible she could have fluttered as she did upon those
symmetrical feet. Her face was fine and _distingue_, her eyes artful and
brilliant; her lips were endowed with such gifts already--not merely of
speaking four or five languages--such silent gifts as brought me beside
myself. That child-mouth could smile enchantingly with encouraging
calmness, could proudly despise, could pou