damsel, this tropical flower,
who, as rumor had it, was doubtless a descendant of the royal dwellers
in ancient Cuzco?

"Quite proper, _O tempora, O mores_!" murmured one Amos A. Hitt,
erstwhile Presbyterian divine, explorer, and gentleman of leisure, as
he settled back in his armchair in the fashionable Weltmore apartments
and exhaled a long stream of tobacco smoke through his wide nostrils.
"And, if I can procure a ticket, I shall give myself the pleasure of
witnessing this sacred spectacle, produced under the deceptive mask of
charity," he added.

In vain the Beaubien labored with Ames when she learned of his
intention--though she said nothing to Carmen. Ames had yielded to her
previously expressed wish that he refrain from calling at the
Hawley-Crowles mansion, or attempting to force his attentions upon the
young girl. But in this matter he remained characteristically
obdurate. And thereby a little rift was started. For the angry
Beaubien, striving to shield the innocent girl, had vented her
abundant wrath upon the affable Ames, and had concluded her
denunciation with a hint of possible exposure of certain dark facts of
which she was sole custodian. Ames smiled, bowed, and courteously
kissed her hand, as he left her stormy presence; but he did not yield.
And Carmen went to the Ball.

Through the perfumed air and the garish light tore the crashing notes
of the great band. The loud hum of voices ceased, and all eyes turned
to the leaders of the grand march, as they stepped forth at one end of
the great auditorium. Then an involuntary murmur arose from the
multitude--a murmur of admiration, of astonishment, of envy. The
gigantic form of Ames stood like a towering pillar, the embodiment of
potential force, the epitome of human power, physical and mental. His
massive shoulders were thrown back as if in haughty defiance of
comment, critical or commendatory. The smile which flitted about his
strong, clean-shaven face bespoke the same caution as the gentle
uplifting of a tiger's paw--behind it lay all that was humanly
terrible, cunning, heartless, and yet, in a sense, fascinating. His
thick, brown hair, scarcely touched with gray, lay about his great
head like a lion's mane. He raised a hand and gently pushed it back
over the lofty brow. Then he bent and offered an arm to the slender
wisp of a girl at his side.

"Good God!" murmured a tall, angular man in the crowd. "Who is she?"

"I don't know, Hitt," replied the f