rn in time for dinner. The gas had been lighted and turned
low; Magdalena had never seen any rooms but her own in this house
sufficiently lighted by day or by night, except when guests were
present. Mrs. Yorba would waste neither gas nor carpets; in consequence,
the house had a somewhat sepulchral air; even its silence was never
broken, save when Helena gave a sudden furious war-whoop and slid down
the banisters.

The walls of the parlour were tinted a pale buff, the ceilings frescoed
with cherubs and flowers. On the great plate-glass windows were curtains
of dark red velvet trimmed with gold fringe. The large square pieces of
furniture were upholstered with red velvet. The floor was covered with a
red Brussels carpet with a design of squirming devil-fish. Three or four
small chairs were covered with Indian embroidery, and there were two
Chinese tables of teak-wood and mottled marble. Gas having been an
afterthought, the pipes were visible, although painted to match the
walls. Magdalena had seen few rooms and had not awakened to the
hideousness of these; her aunt had mingled little taste with her
splendour, and the Belmont mansion was furnished throughout its lower
part in satin damask with no attempt at art's variousness. Magdalena
opened the piano and felt vaguely for the music in the keys. She forgot
the star, remembered only her passionate love of exultant sound, her
longing to find the soul of this most mysterious of all instruments. But
her stiff fingers only sprawled helplessly over the keys, and after a
few moments she desisted and sat staring with dilating eyes, the
presentiment again assailing her. Her shattered caballeros rose before
her, but she shook her head; they, under what influence she knew not,
had faded out into ghost-land.

A carriage drove up to the door. She went forward and stood in the hall,
awaiting her parents. They entered almost immediately. Both kissed her
lightly, her mother inquiring absently if she had been a good girl, and
remarking that she had neuralgia and should go to bed at once. Her
father grunted and asked her if she and Helena Belmont had behaved
themselves, and, more particularly, if she had been outside the house
without an attendant; he never failed to ask this when he had been away
from the house for twenty-four hours. Magdalena replied in the negative,
and did not feel called upon to confess her minor sins. She had a
conscience, but she had also a strong distaste for her f