ge and weirdly grotesque things of which My Friend had Told me.

And finally, as under the Strange Fascination of the Vitreous Dexter and
Sinister Eyes of The Carved-Ivory Odalisque, which Held me Spell-Bound,
I Learned from the Thin, Curled Lips of the said Carved-Ivory Odalisque
its Own Story.

It was not Created by Love.

Nor was it in Itself the Embodiment of Love. But it Bore in one of its
Flexible Ribs the Tangible Evidence of the Adhesive Qualities of a Love
Driven Back upon itself,--the Concentration of an Otherwise Wasted
Force.

Less than a Thousand Years ago, a Dudish Roderick Dhu stood Flustrated
with Fiery Indignation, face to face with a Maiden Priestess--a
Prideful, Haughty Woman!

It was on the Rue Quatrieme. It was at the Intersection of two great
Thoroughfares.

The Clouds had Parted their Bangs in the Middle, and were Shimmering
their Crystal Drops of Distilled Ocean in torrental volume upon the
Luckless Wayfarers.

It chanced that the Prideful Maiden Priestess Was Hurrying adown the
Boulevard with the Self-same Carved-Ivory-Handled Umbrella Closely
Clasped in Her Delicate Marie Antoinette fingers. She was thus Ensconced
Behind the Sheltering Tautness of the Stout-ribbed Gingham Umbrella
With the Carved-Ivory Handle, when she passed out of the Shadow of The
Massive Marble Edifice of Gothic Architecture and turned into the Rue
de la Chataigne--and Unconsciously, Unintentionally and Unresistingly
Punched a Tear out of the Dexter Eye of the Resistless Roderick Dhu!

I am sure that Carved-Ivory, Oggling Odalisque was to Blame! I am sure
that it Wantonly Drove the Spare Rib of the Stout Gingham Umbrella to
the Accomplishment of its own Foul Purpose!

The Prideful Maiden Priestess had great Commiseration for the Ardent
Roderick.

She Frankly Told him so.

And in a Tacit but Potent--Oh, so Potent--Way, bade him, if he liked,
to go with her to her Shrine and there have his Weeping Wounds Bound up
with "a Bit of East India Silk,"--at her Shrine, whose Doors should ever
be Open to Him.

Oh! Chance, Fortuitous Chance! How many Followers of St. Pendennis are
Annually Ensnared in thy Name!

Ere Long,--within a Month, a Little Month--the Dudish Roderick Dhu was a
cringing devotee at the Vestal Shrine of the Maiden Priestess, Praying
that she should receive all his Suppliant Love, and "right smart" of his
devotion. He would never leave Her Side. He would Never, never Smile on
other Maidens. He woul