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
never before appeared, Nathan was stirred to the soul by fresh