"And also the fate of your brother," responds Roderick Borgia. "Come with me to the Golden Room."

"To the Golden Room be it then!"

And Lucretia leans on the arm of Borgia and goes with him from the Hall to the Golden Room: his broad chest swelling with the anticipation of triumph,—and her right hand resting upon the hilt of the poniard which is inserted in the scarf that binds her waist.

Ere we follow the guests who have left the hall, and trace their various fortunes, let us cast a momentary glance upon those who remain.

The Caliph Haroun Alraschid sits by yonder table, sipping champagne from a long-necked glass, which now and then is pressed by the lips of his fair abbess. The caliph has evidently been refreshing himself too bountifully with the wines of the Giaour; his mask falls aside, and beneath his turban, instead of the grave oriental features of the magnificent sultan, you discern the puffy face and carbuncled nose of a Wall street broker.

A little beyond the caliph, a pope has fallen to sleep on yonder sofa, the triple crown resting neglected at his feet, and his pontifical robes soiled with the stains of wine. The cardinal and his Quakeress are trying the steps of the last waltz. The Christian knight and his houri, stand by the table, near the pillar,—discussing the merits of Mahomet's paradise? No! But the remains of a cold boiled fowl. And then, in the shadows of the pillars, and in front of the lofty mirrors, still glided to and fro the contrasted train of monks and nuns, knights and houris, cardinals and Quakeresses, popes and dancing girls. All were masked—still masked: for there were faces in that hall which you may have often seen in the dress circle of the opera, or in the dress pews of the fashionable church. Remove those masks? Never! not as you value the peace of a hundred families, the reputation of some of our most exclusive fashionables, the repose of "good society."

Thus the maskers glide along; the music strikes up in an adjoining hall—the dance begins—the orgie deepens,—and,—

Let the curtain fall.


[CHAPTER II.]