favorite. What
do you think of this border? _c'est belle, cette garniture? et ce jabot,
c'est tres seduisant, n'est-ce pas? Mais voici,_ the cap of Princess
Lichtenstein. _C'est superb, c'est mon favori._ But I also love very
much this of the Duchesse de Berri. She gave me the pattern herself. And
after all, this _cornette a petite sante_ of Lady Blaze is a dear little
thing; then, again, this _coiffe a dentelle_ of Lady Macaroni is quite
a pet."

"Pass them down," said Lord Squib, "we want to look at them."
Accordingly they were passed down. Lord Squib put one on.

"Do I look superb, sentimental, or only pretty?" asked his lordship.
The example was contagious, and most of the caps were appropriated. No
one laughed more than their mistress, who, not having the slightest idea
of the value of money, would have given them all away on the spot; not
from any good-natured feeling, but from the remembrance that to-morrow
she might amuse half an hour buying others.

While some were stealing, and she remonstrating, the duke clapped his
hands like a caliph. The curtain at the end of the apartment was
immediately withdrawn and the ball-room stood revealed.

It was of the same size as the banqueting-hall. Its walls exhibited a
long perspective of gilt pilasters, the frequent piers of which were
entirely of plate looking-glass, save where occasionally a picture had
been, as it were, inlaid in its rich frame. Here was the Titian Venus of
the Tribune, deliciously copied by a French artist; there, the Roman
Fornarina, with her delicate grace, beamed like the personification of
Raphael's genius. Here Zuleikha, living in the light and shade of that
magician Guercino, in vain summoned the passions of the blooming Hebrew;
and there Cleopatra, preparing for her last immortal hour, proved by
what we saw that Guido had been a lover.

The ceiling of this apartment was richly painted and richly gilt; from
it were suspended three lustres by golden cords, which threw a softened
light upon the floor of polished and curiously inlaid woods. At the end
of the apartment was an orchestra, and here the pages, under the
direction of Carlstein, offered a very efficient domestic band.

Round the room waltzed the elegant revelers. Softly and slowly, led by
their host, they glided along like spirits of air; but each time that
the duke passed the musicians, the music became livelier, and the motion
more brisk, till at length you might have mistaken the