e_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the
world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming
in as by right upon this exotic air.

And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met,
coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their
host. Philippe of Orleans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a
half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment
and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good
advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity
to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its
straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green
and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with
large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on
the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the
sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a
tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat,
display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes
blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their
angles during the calm advance down the room.

"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the
head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed
such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me
much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become
jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early
for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave.
Myself and the Vicomte de Bechamel have labored, seriously labored, for
your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those
painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you.
Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am
allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Bechamel advises me we have
never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of
you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle
Haidee, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that
station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that
is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an
occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to
please? At least, did he eve