he accommodation man, having raised his glass
in compliment to a painted harlot. "Once in Europe, and under the shadow
of the wife of Prince Grouski, the past would be wiped out; your money
would win admirers, while your being a princess would make fashionable
society your tool. The very atmosphere of princesses is full of taint;
but it is sunk in the rank, and rather increases courtiers. In France
your untainted princess would prognosticate the second coming of--,
well, I will not profane."

"Do not, I beg of you," says Madame, blushing. "I am scrupulously
opposed to profanity." And then there breaks upon the ear music that
seems floating from an enchanted chamber, so soft and dulcet does it
mingle with the coarse laughing and coarser wit of the banqueters. At
this feast of flowers may be seen the man high in office, the grave
merchant, the man entrusted with the most important affairs of the
commonwealth--the sage and the charlatan. Sallow-faced and painted
women, more undressed than dressed, sit beside them, hale companions.
Respectable society regards the Judge a fine old gentleman; respectable
society embraces Mr. Soloman, notwithstanding he carries on a business,
as we shall show, that brings misery upon hundreds. Twice has he
received a large vote as candidate for the General Assembly.

A little removed from the old Judge (excellent man) sits Anna Bonard,
like a jewel among stones less brilliant, George Mullholland on her
left. Her countenance wears an expression of gentleness, sweet and
touching. Her silky black hair rolls in wavy folds down her voluptuous
shoulders, a fresh carnatic flush suffuses her cheeks, her great black
eyes, so beautifully arched with heavy lashes, flash incessantly, and to
her bewitching charms is added a pensive smile that now lights up her
features, then subsides into melancholy.

"What think you of my statuary?" inquired the old hostess, "and my
antiques? Have I not taste enough for a princess?" How soft the carpet,
how rich its colors! Those marble mantel-pieces, sculptured in female
figures, how massive! How elegantly they set off each end of the hall,
as we shall call this room; and how sturdily they bear up statuettes,
delicately executed in alabaster and Parian, of Byron, Goethe, Napoleon,
and Charlemagne--two on each. And there, standing between two Gothic
windows on the front of the hall, is an antique side-table, of curious
design. The windows are draped with curtains of ric