grotesque dress of the world, dancing away as if life was but one
festival.

As I stood aloof for a while, wholly dazzled by the glare, the
movement, and the multitude, I was recognised by some of my "old"
acquaintance--the acquaintance of twenty-four hours--but here time,
like every thing else, had changed its meaning, and a new influx had
recruited the hall. Cassini and some others came forward and welcomed
me, like one who had returned from the tomb--the news of the day was
given and exchanged--a bottle of champagne was prescribed as the true
medicine for my lowness of pulse--and I gradually gave myself up to
the spirit of the hour.

As I wandered through the crowd, a mask dressed as a sylph bent its
head over my shoulder, and I heard the words, "Why are you not in a
domino?" I made some careless answer. "Go and get one immediately,"
was the reply. "Take this card, fasten it on your robe, and meet me
here again." The mask put a card marked with a large rose into my
hand, and was gone waltzing away among the crowd. I still lingered,
leaning against one of the pillars of the aisle. The mask again
approached me. "Monsieur Anglais," was the whisper, "you do not know
your friends. Go and furnish yourself with a domino. It is essential
to your safety." "Who are my friends, and why do you give me this
advice?" was my enquiry. The mask lightly tripped round me, laid its
ungloved hand on mine, as if in the mere sport of the dance; and I saw
that it was the hand of a female from its whiteness and delicacy. I
was now more perplexed than ever. As the form floated round me with
the lightness of a zephyr, it whispered the word "Mordecai," and flew
off into an eddy of the moving multitude. I now obeyed the command;
went to the little shrine where the turnkey's wife had opened her