"Your lordship is right to fan the flame that burns dimly," observed Greenwood, who, unprincipled as he was, could not, however, avoid a feeling of disgust when he heard that old voluptuary, with one foot in the grave, thus shamelessly express himself.
"Wine and women, my dear Greenwood," continued the Marquis, "are the only earthly enjoyments worth living for. I hope to die, with my head pillowed on the naked—heaving bosom of beauty, and with a glass of sparkling champagne in my hand."
"Your lordship would then even defy the pangs of the grim monster who spares no one," said Greenwood.
"I have lived a joyous life, my dear friend; and when death comes, I can say that no mortal man—not even Solomon, with his thousand wives and concubines—nor any eastern Sultan, who had congregated the fairest flowers of Georgia, Circassia, and Armenia in his harem,—had more deeply drunk than I of the pleasures of love."
Just as the aged voluptuary uttered these words, a silver bell that hung in the apartment was agitated gently by a wire which communicated with the adjoining saloon.
"Now all is in readiness!" exclaimed the Marquis: "follow me."
The nobleman opened the door leading into the saloon, which he entered, accompanied by Greenwood.
He then closed the door behind him.
The saloon was involved in total obscurity; the blackest darkness reigned there, unbroken by a ray.
"Give me your hand," said the Marquis.