of the gilded homes of those who called themselves "the best society."

True, it was whispered that he was rather fast, that he played heavily
and a trifle too successfully, and that he lived the life of anything
but a saint at his luxurious rooms. "But then," continued society,
openly and complacently, "he is so fine-looking, so courtly and
polished, so well connected, and what is still more to the point, my
dear, he is reputed to be immensely wealthy, so we must not heed these
rumors. After all, it is the way of these young men of the world."

Thus "the best society" that would have politely frozen out of its
parlors the Chevalier Bayard, _sans peur et sans reproche_, had he not
appeared in the latest style, with golden fame rather than golden
spurs, welcomed Mr. Van Dam. Indeed, not a few forced exotic belles,
who had prematurely developed in the hothouse atmosphere of wealth and
extravagance, regarded him as a sort of social lion; and his
reticence, with a certain mystery in which he shrouded his evil life,
made him all the more fascinating. He was past the prime of life,
though exceedingly well preserved, for he was one of those cool,
deliberate votaries of pleasure that reduce amusement to a science,
and carefully shun all injurious excess. While exceedingly deferential
toward the sex in general, and bestowing compliments and attentions as
adroitly as a financier would place his money, he at the same time
permitted the impression to grow that he was extremely fastidious in
his taste, and had never married because it had never been his fortune
to meet the faultless being who could satisfy his exacting eyes. Any
special and continued admiration on his part therefore made its
recipient an object of distinction and envy to very many in the unreal
world in which he glided serpent-like, rather than moved as a man. To
morbid minds his rumored evil deeds became piquant eccentricities, and