Scores of couples, of both sexes, were whirling frantically in the Old-World Teutonic waltz, and in the flushed faces and excited gestures of the gyrating dancers I could notice a total forgetfulness of modesty and decorum.
From the alcoves came the sounds of the clinking of wine-glasses, the rattle of Moselle bottles, the pop, pop, of champagne corks, and songs, choruses, and loud shouts of laughter, together with a Babel-jabber of many confused tongues.
My attention was attracted while listening to the music from the fine band, to a group that occupied a position which partially screened them from the glances of the larger portion of the audience and dancers, sitting and standing back as they did in an alcove.
PRINCE OF WALES.
There were a dozen persons, perhaps, in the party, of both sexes, five or six men fashionably attired, and as many women, in all the grandeur and magnificence of harlotry—open and defiant—but well-bred harlotry.
There were two central figures conversing in this group, and I could see that they were listened to with attention while speaking, one of them, particularly, a slightly bald-headed man, having secured the ears of his audience.
The other central figure was a woman, beautiful, but of that beauty which is leprous to the sight, and fatal to those who encounter it as the shade of the Upas Tree.