sitting after dinner
maintained here?"

"Only till we finish this decanter of claret, my Lord," said Colonel
Bramleigh, who caught what was not intended for his ears.

"Ask the governor to give you a cigar," whispered Jack to Cutbill; "he
has some rare Cubans."

"Now, this is what I call regular jolly," said Cutbill, as he drew a
small spider table to his side, and furnished himself with a glass and
a decanter of Madeira, "and," added he in a whisper to Jack, "let us not
be in a hurry to leave it. We only want one thing to be perfect, Colonel
Bramleigh."

"If I can only supply it, pray command me, Mr. Cutbill."

"I want this, then," said Cutbill, pursing up his mouth at one side,
while he opened the other as if to emit the smoke of a cigar.

"Do you mean smoking?" asked Colonel Bramleigh, in a half-irritable
tone.

"You have it."

"Are you a smoker, my Lord?" asked the host, turning to Lord Culduff.

"A very moderate one. A cigarette after breakfast, and another at bed
time, are about my excesses in that direction."

"Then I'm afraid I must defraud you of the full measure of your
enjoyment, Mr. Cutbill; we never smoke in the dining-room. Indeed, I
myself have a strong aversion to tobacco, and though I have consented
to build a smoking-room, it is as far off from me as I have been able to
contrive it."

"And what about his choice Cubans, eh?" whispered Cutbill to Jack.

"All hypocrisy. You'll find a box of them in your dressing-room," said
Jack, in an undertone, "when you go upstairs."

Temple now led his distinguished friend into those charming pasturages
where the flocks of diplomacy love to dwell, and where none other
save themselves could find herbage. Nor was it amongst great political
events, of peace or war, alliances or treaties, they wandered--for
perhaps in these the outer world, taught as they are by newspapers,
might have taken some interest and some share. No; their talk was all of
personalities, of Russian princes and grandees of Spain, archduchesses
and "marchesas," whose crafts and subtleties, and pomps and vanities,
make up a world like no other world, and play a drama of life--happily
it may be for humanity--like no other drama that other men and women
ever figured in. Now it is a strange fact--and I appeal to my readers if
their experience will not corroborate mine--that when two men thoroughly
versed in these themes will talk together upon them, exchanging their
stories and mingling