toccini!" cried the
carpet knight.

"Fantoccini's a doll to her!" retorted the worldly young spark
addressed.

"A wicked French doll, then! What do you think?" Turning to the local
Addison.

"Sir, she 'snatches a grace beyond the reach of art'!" replied that
worthy.

"You ask for a criticism, and he answers in poetry!" retorted the
first speaker.

"'Tis only the expression of the audience!" interposed another voice.

"Oh, of course, Mr. Mauville, if you, too, take her part, that is the
end of it!"

The land baron's smile revealed withering contempt, as with eyes
bright with suppressed excitement, and his face unusually sallow, he
joined the group.

"The end of it!" he repeated, fixing his glance upon the captious
dandy. "The beginning, you mean! The beginning of her triumphs!"

"Oh, have your own way!" answered the disconcerted critic.

Mauville deliberately turned his back. "And such dunces sit in
judgment!" he muttered to the scholar.

"Curse me, Mauville's in a temper to-night!" said the spark in a low
voice. "Been drinking, I reckon! But it's time for the next act!"

Punches and juleps were hastily disposed of, and the imbibers quickly
sought their places. This sudden influx, with its accompanying
laughter and chattering, aroused the marquis from his lethargy. He
started and looked around him in bewilderment. The noise and the light
conversation, however, soon recalled his mind to a sense of his
surroundings, and he endeavored to recover his self-possession.

Could it be possible it was but a likeness his imagination had
converted into such vivid resemblance? A sudden thought seized him and
he looked around toward the door of the box.

"Francois!" he called, and the valet, who had been waiting his
master's pleasure without, immediately appeared.

"Sit down, Francois!" commanded the marquis. "I am not feeling well. I
may conclude to leave soon, and may need your arm."

The servant obeyed, and the nobleman, under pretense of finding more
air near the door, drew back his chair, where he could furtively watch
his man's face. The orchestra ceased; the curtain rose, and the valet
gazed mechanically at the stage. In his way, Francois was as _blase_
as his master, only, of course, he understood his position too well to
reveal that lassitude and ennui, the expression of which was the
particular privilege of his betters. He had seen many great actresses
and heard many peerless singers; he had delved afte