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 drawn by a pair of coursers, whose bits are whitened by impatient foam; they start with emulous ardour, and soon reached the assigned spot. Thirty attendants have been contending for the honour of receiving their master in their arms. They conducted him to an apartment equally elegant and sumptuous. In the twinkling of an eye, his plain tunic is soon replaced by a costly flowing robe. Half a score pier glasses reflect his image, and he smiles with proud satisfaction at his splendid appearance.

The clock had just struck six, when company was announced. Successively were introduced ladies, men of letters, and monied men. Some among the former, by dint of art, concealed the ravages of years: others, young and lively, laughed at the pretensions of their grand-mothers; each of them, in a whisper to Nadir, would alternately censure her most amiable companions, and extol her own merit and graces. The financiers would speak of the stocks and bankruptcies, or yawn insignificantly; finally, the wits worried the whole company with a display of their erudition and profound knowledge; the poets alone made themselves agreeable, by reading lines in praise of my lord, although it might be observed that one word was used to mean a whole sentence, or that sometimes also, the thoughts and ideas were the quintessence of wit. In the mean time a gorgeous dinner had been served, to which all the guests eagerly sat down; Nadir alone, feeding upon the mere smoke of opulence, hardly tasted any of the dishes. The moment the repast was ended, the literati, without exception, sneak off unperceived. Nadir and the rest sat dawn to cards. “Cards,” said an ancient sage, “dispense from being witty such as are unqualified to converse. Gold pieces in plenty roll on the table, and some among the ladies, by dint of stolen glances, secure their success. Nadir was in a run of bad luck, but as he shewed not the least ill humour, he was universally complimented on account of his equanimity. The play being over, sorbets and ice creams were brought up; but dull silence prevailed, not even a word of scandal was uttered. On a sudden a concert of lyres, harps, flutes, and the most enchanting voices began. Then it was that the company began chattering aloud, and burst out a laughing. During the concert many a wife and husband, negligently lolling on a couch at a great distance from each other, received or gave an assignation for the next day. When at last the music ceased, all present gave in their opinion, according to custom. The curtain, at the farther extremity of the room, is instantly drawn up, when a company of dancers are discovered, who perform a luxurious pantomime. Now the conversation is at an end; all the eyes are fixed on the stage, all feelings are alive. The imaginations of the youthful virgins were in a blaze, married women even take lessons of voluptuousness. The financiers shake their purses, and the young men plan contrivances to dupe the seniors.

After the pantomime was concluded, Nadir’s high taste was extolled to the skies; but the party were hardly out of the portico when they made game of him: “He shows all the stupid haughtiness of an upstart,” said one; “true,” interrupted another, “but his steward and his cook are wonderful clever fellows:” and our hero, who had only heard the flattering encomiums, fancied he had procured numbers of friends in consequence of the elegant entertainment he had given them. Extended on a down bed, he soon fell asleep. “What!” thought he, “is that all that is required from a man of fortune?”

When he awoke he did not think proper to ring the bell for his servants to wait upon him. He was desirous of inspecting privately the whole range of his apartments, in order the better to enjoy the splendid furniture. By mere chance, or perhaps Alzor, brought him to the window of a library filled with thousands of volumes, which the bookseller alone had ever opened. From that same window he could look into a lonely street. Was it a dream?—Close to a window he saw seated in a plain modest undress, but still enchanting. It was she—and he cried out, “It is she!”—she heard his voice turned round her head, but not recognising him, immediately let down the blinds.

What is Nadir to do? He thinks of going to throw himself at her feet. Would it not be humbling himself too much? He would lay his fortune at her feet;—but are No. 63.—Vol. X.