a, in
the harmony of an obsequious welcome.

The Duke of Rosecouleur glanced around him approvingly upon the
apartments. I believed that he had never seen anything more beautiful than
the _petite_ palace of Honoria, or more ravishing than herself. He said
little, in a low voice, and always to one person at a time. His answers
and remarks were simple and well-turned.

Dalton allowed the others to move on, and by a slight sign drew me to him.

"It is unexpected," he said, in a thoughtful manner, looking me full in
the eyes.

"You knew the Duke of Rosecouleur in Europe?"

"At Paris, yes,--and in Italy he was a travel friend; but we heard lately
that he had retired upon his estates in England; and certainly, he is the
last person we looked for here."

"Unannounced."

"That is a part of the singularity."

"His name was not in the published list of arrivals; but he may have left
England incognito. Is a mistake possible?"

"No! there is but one such man in Europe;--a handsomer or a richer does
not live."

"An eye of wonderful depth."

"Hands exquisite."

"Feet, ditto."

"And his dress and manner."

"Unapproachable!"

"Not a shadow of pretence;--the essence of good-breeding founded upon
extensive knowledge, and a thorough sense of position and its advantages;
--in fact, the Napoleon of the parlor."

"But, Dalton," said I, nervously, "no one attends him."

"No,--I thought so at first; but do you see that Mephistophelean figure,
in black, who follows the Duke a few paces behind, and is introduced to no
one?"

"Yes. A singular creature, truly!--how thin he is!"

"That shadow that follows his Highness is, in fact, the famous valet, Reve
de Noir,--the prince of servants. The Duke goes nowhere without this man
as a shadow. He asserts that Reve de Noir has no soul; and I believe him.
The face is that of a demon. It is a separate creation, equally wonderful
with the master, but not human. He was condensed out of the atmosphere of
the great world."

As we were speaking, we observed a crowd of distinguished persons
gathered about and following his Highness, as he moved. He spoke now to
one; now to another. Honoria, fascinated, her beauty every instant
becoming more radiant, just leaned, with the lightest pressure, upon the
Duke's arm. They were promenading through the rooms. The music, soft and
low, continued, but the groups of dancers broke up, the loiterers in the
gallery came in, and as the sun draws his fi