seemed either to forget his knowledge
or despise it. So that, as leaning on the little dwarf's arm he moved
along, his very air of fashionable languor seemed to heighten the
absurdity of the contrast. Nay, he actually seemed to bestow an almost
deferential attention to what the other said, bowing blandly his
acquiescence, and smiling with an urbanity all his own.

Of the crowd that passed, nearly all knew the English Minister.
Uncovered heads were bent obsequiously; graceful salutations met him as
he went; while a hundred conjectures ran as to who and what might be his
companion.

He was a Mesmeric Professor, a Writer in Cipher, a Rabbi, an Egyptian
Explorer, an Alchemist, an African Traveller, and, at last, Monsieur
Thiers!--and so the fine world of Naples discussed the humble individual
whom you and I, dear reader, are acquainted with as Billy Traynor.

CHAPTER XXIV. HOW A "RECEPTION" COMES TO ITS CLOSE

On the evening of that day the handsome saloons of the great Hotel
"Universo" were filled with a brilliant assemblage to compliment the
Princess Sabloukoff on her arrival. We have already introduced this lady
to the reader, and have no need to explain the homage and attention
of which she was the object. There is nothing which so perfectly
illustrates the maxim of _ignotum pro magnifico_ as the career of
politics; certain individuals obtaining, as they do, a pre-eminence
and authority from a species of mysterious prestige about them, and a
reputation of having access at any moment to the highest personage in
the world of state affairs. Doubtless great ministers are occasionally
not sorry to see the public full cry on a false scent, and encourage to
a certain extent this mystification; but still it would be an error
to deny to such persons as we speak of a knowledge, if not actually an
influence, in great affairs.

When the Swedish Chancellor uttered his celebrated sarcasm on the
governing capacities of Europe, the political _salon_, as a state
engine, was not yet in existence. What additional energy might it have
given to his remark, had he known that the tea-table was the chapel of
ease to the council-room, and gossip a new power in the state. Despotic
governments are always curious about public opinion; they dread while
affecting to despise it. They, however, make a far greater mistake
than this, for they imagine its true exponent to be the society of the
highest in rank and station.

It is not necessary