stern Brutus here!--no interference
with royalty!'

'But our female guests...'

'Love a toper! Did not Ariadne dote upon Bacchus?'

The feast proceeded; the guests grew more talkative and noisy; the
dessert or last course was already on the table; and the slaves bore
round water with myrrh and hyssop for the finishing lavation. At the
same time, a small circular table that had been placed in the space
opposite the guests suddenly, and as by magic, seemed to open in the
centre, and cast up a fragrant shower, sprinkling the table and the
guests; while as it ceased the awning above them was drawn aside, and
the guests perceived that a rope had been stretched across the ceiling,
and that one of those nimble dancers for which Pompeii was so
celebrated, and whose descendants add so charming a grace to the
festivities of Astley's or Vauxhall, was now treading his airy measures
right over their heads.

This apparition, removed but by a cord from one's pericranium, and
indulging the most vehement leaps, apparently with the intention of
alighting upon that cerebral region, would probably be regarded with
some terror by a party in May Fair; but our Pompeian revellers seemed to
behold the spectacle with delighted curiosity, and applauded in
proportion as the dancer appeared with the most difficulty to miss
falling upon the head of whatever guest he particularly selected to
dance above. He paid the senator, indeed, the peculiar compliment of
literally falling from the rope, and catching it again with his hand,
just as the whole party imagined the skull of the Roman was as much
fractured as ever that of the poet whom the eagle took for a tortoise.
At length, to the great relief of at least Ione, who had not much
accustomed herself to this entertainment, the dancer suddenly paused as
a strain of music was heard from without. He danced again still more
wildly; the air changed, the dancer paused again; no, it could not
dissolve the charm which was supposed to possess him! He represented
one who by a strange disorder is compelled to dance, and whom only a
certain air of music can cure. At length the musician seemed to hit on
the right tune; the dancer gave one leap, swung himself down from the
rope, alighted on the floor, and vanished.

One art now yielded to another; and the musicians who were stationed
without on the terrace struck up a soft and mellow air, to which were
sung the following words, made almost indistinct by t