e presenting
the most graceful types of many lands; foreheads noble and majestic,
or softly rounded, as if thought ruled, or flat, as if resistant will
reigned there unconquered; beautiful bosoms swelling, as George IV.
admired them, or widely parted after the fashion of the eighteenth
century, or pressed together, as Louis XV. required; some shown boldly,
without veils, others covered by those charming pleated chemisettes
which Raffaelle painted. The prettiest feet pointed for the dance, the
slimmest waists encircled in the waltz, stimulated the gaze of the most
indifferent person present. The murmur of sweet voices, the rustle of
gowns, the cadence of the dance, the whir of the waltz harmoniously
accompanied the music. A fairy's wand seemed to have commanded this
dazzling revelry, this melody of perfumes, these iridescent lights
glittering from crystal chandeliers or sparkling in candelabra. This
assemblage of the prettiest women in their prettiest dresses stood
out upon a gloomy background of men in black coats, among whom the eye
remarked the elegant, delicate, and correctly drawn profile of nobles,
the ruddy beards and grave faces of Englishmen, and the more gracious
faces of the French aristocracy. All the orders of Europe glittered on
the breasts or hung from the necks of these men.

Examining this society carefully, it was seen to present not only
the brilliant tones and colors and outward adornment, but to have
a soul,--it lived, it felt, it thought. Hidden passions gave it a
physiognomy; mischievous or malignant looks were exchanged; fair and
giddy girls betrayed desires; jealous women told each other scandals
behind their fans, or paid exaggerated compliments. Society, anointed,
curled, and perfumed, gave itself up to social gaiety which went to the
brain like a heady liquor. It seemed as if from all foreheads, as well
as from all hearts, ideas and sentiments were exhaling, which presently
condensed and reacted in a volume on the coldest persons present, and
excited them. At the most animated moment of this intoxicating party, in
a corner of a gilded salon where certain bankers, ambassadors, and the
immoral old English earl, Lord Dudley, were playing cards, Madame Felix
de Vandenesse was irresistibly drawn to converse with Raoul Nathan.
Possibly she yielded to that ball-intoxication which sometimes wrings
avowals from the most discreet.

At sight of such a fete, and the splendors of a world in which he had