In a corner opposite the musicians a group of persons were in animated talk; among them Sonia Danidoff, Thomery, and Jérôme Fandor. Music was their theme, some admired Wagner and the classics, others voted for the moderns, for the sugariest of waltzes, for the romantic, the bizarre.“For the profane like myself,” declared Thomery, laughing, “gipsy music has its charms!”

“Oh,” cried Sonia Danidoff, “you are not going to tell me that such hackneyed things as The Smile of Spring and The Blush Rose Waltz are to your taste!” Her tone was reproachful, but her smile was charming.

Nanteuil, the fashionable banker, who was fluttering about the Princess, hastened to take her side

“Come now, Thomery, you would not put your signature to that?”

Jérôme Fandor, who had just joined the group, declared:

“For my part, I thoroughly agree with you, my dear Monsieur Thomery!”

Sonia Danidoff looked surprised.

Thomery replied, with a touch of malice:

“Monsieur Fandor is like myself – the Tonkinoise is more to his taste! “

“More than Wagner’s operatic big guns!” finished Fandor.Then turning to the Princess, who still wore her air of surprise;

“Yes, Princess, 1 confess it – my taste in music is deplorable: it comes from absolute ignorance. I do not understand these modern symphonies – the simple romantic tunes suit me best.”

“Such as?” queried Nanteuil.

“Just some music-hall air or ditty,” answered Fandor with a smile as frank as his confession.

The Princess was amused at this little pseudo-artistic discussion. She was about to speak when a couple of waltzers broke into the group and scattered it.

Jérôme Fandor slipped away and wandered through the gorgeous reception rooms. Here and there, when caught up in the throng and forced to halt, or when pressed against the wall of the ballroom, scraps of conversation, mingled with the strains of the Hungarian band, fell on his keen ears.

He took refuge at last in the embrasure of a window; but his retreat was soon invaded by two young men who, he gathered, had run across each other in the gallery, and were continuing their talk about old times and new.

“Come, tell me, dear Charley, what has been happening to you since we left the school!”

“Bah! I go from the Madeleine to the Opera nearly every evening, and then back again; I go to bed late and get up late; I go out a good deal, as you see; sometimes I dance, but very rarely; I often play bridge... and that is about all!

It’s not very interest ing; but you, old boy... I heard you had got a rich ticket, my dear Andral!”

“Oh, hardly that, dear fellow; but I am well on the way to one, I fancy. I had the good luck to be introduced to Thomery, and it so happened he was wanting a young engineer for one of his sugar plantations in San Domingo.”

“Good Lord! At San Domingo, among the niggers?”