young boy-god Iacchus, amidst his nymphs, could, in Grecian frieze or
picture, have seemed more the type of the sportive, hilarious vitality of
sensuous nature. He must have passed unobserved by me, in my
preoccupation of thought, from the museum and across the room in which I
sat; and now there was as little trace in that animated countenance of the
terror it had exhibited at Sir Philip's approach, as of the change it had
undergone in my trance or my fantasy.

But he caught sight of me, left his young companions, came gayly to my
side.

"Did you not ask me to go with you into that museum about half an hour
ago, or did I dream that I went with you?"

"Yes; you went with me into that museum."

"Then pray what dull theme did you select to set me asleep there?"

I looked hard at him, and made no reply. Somewhat to my relief, I now
heard my host's voice,--

"Why, Fenwick, what has become of Sir Philip Derval?"

"He has left; he had business." And, as I spoke, again I looked hard on
Margrave.

His countenance now showed a change; not surprise, not dismay, but rather
a play of the lip, a flash of the eye, that indicated complacency,--even
triumph.