ide out to join him or her in the procession.
Then, when the last shadows had found their mates and every one was
partnered, the lights were turned up in a blaze, the orchestra crashed
out a whirl of nondescript dance music, and people just let themselves
go. It was Pandemonium. Afterwards every one strutted about for half an
hour or so, showing themselves off, and then the legitimate programme of
dances began. There were some rather amusing incidents throughout the
evening. One set of lancers was danced entirely by the Seven Deadly Sins
and their human exemplars; of course seven couples were not sufficient to
make up the set, so they had to bring in an eighth sin, I forget what it
was."

"The sin of Patriotism would have been rather appropriate, considering
who were giving the dance," said the other.

"Hush!" exclaimed Cornelian nervously. "You don't know who may overhear
you in a place like this. You'll get yourself into trouble."

"Wasn't there some rather daring new dance of the 'bunny-hug' variety?"
asked the indiscreet one.

"The 'Cubby-Cuddle,'" said Cornelian; "three or four adventurous couples
danced it towards the end of the evening."

"The Dawn says that without being strikingly new it was strikingly
modern."

"The best description I can give of it," said Cornelian, "is summed up in
the comment of the Grafin von Tolb when she saw it being danced: 'if they
really love each other I suppose it doesn't matter.' By the way," he
added with apparent indifference, "is there any detailed account of my
costume in the Dawn?"

His companion laughed cynically.

"As if you hadn't read everything that the Dawn and the other morning
papers have to say about the ball hours ago."

"The naked truth should be avoided in a Turkish bath," said Cornelian;
"kindly assume that I've only had time to glance at the weather forecast
and the news from China."

"Oh, very well," said the other; "your costume isn't described; you
simply come amid a host of others as 'Mr. Cornelian Valpy, resplendent as
the Emperor Nero; with him Miss Kate Lerra, typifying Insensate Vanity.'
Many hard things have been said of Nero, but his unkindest critics have
never accused him of resembling you in feature. Until some very clear
evidence is produced I shall refuse to believe it."

Cornelian was proof against these shafts; leaning back gracefully in his
chair he launched forth into that detailed description of his last
night's attire wh