Glancing around the ballroom, I saw our hostess standing off to one side, safely surrounded by a veritable retinue of jovial friends. I thus felt myself at liberty to enjoy a brief interval of repose. As I cast my gaze about the ballroom, searching for a place to take my ease, I grew cognizant of an anomalous sensation. Not only the dancers, but the entire hall and all of its appurtenances appeared to be revolving at a dizzying rate of speed. I was forced to conclude that—in succumbing to the intensely convivial spirit of the occasion—I had indulged in an excess of punch, and was now suffering from a marked, though by no means incapacitating, case of inebriation.

Having noticed a capacious elbow-chair situated in a far corner of the room, I bent my steps in the direction of this inviting article of furniture. Unfortunately, the Fiend Intemperance (as is ever his wont) had so wrought upon my powers of locomotion that I found it impossible to wend my way across the floor without colliding into a surprising number of my fellow masqueraders, several of whom responded most ungraciously—with sharp, reproachful looks and muttered imprecations.

Having no wish to render myself a nuisance, I resolved to leave the ballroom entirely for a brief interval and seek out a more secluded place to rest. Accordingly, I proceeded (albeit somewhat unsteadily) to the nearest place of egress, and at once found myself in a long—dimly lit—and exceptionally lofty corridor, lined on both sides with glass-fronted cabinets, containing countless additional specimens of the late Captain Nicodemus’ unparalleled collection of exotic bibelots.

At length, after much (erratic) walking, I perceived a shaft of golden light in the gloom up ahead. This, I soon discovered, was issuing from a partially opened door. Approaching the latter, I opened it to its fullest extent with a gentle shove of my hands, and found myself gazing into a vast, lavishly appointed boudoir, belonging—I inferred from its contents—to Mrs. Nicodemus herself.

The room was brilliantly lit by a series of wall-mounted gas-jets, a mode of illumination so recently introduced to our fair city—and as of yet so inordinately costly—that I had never before witnessed it firsthand. Needless to say, I was transfixed by the sight of this marvelous innovation. Of even more compelling interest to me at that moment, however, was the enormous four-poster bed that occupied the center of the room, and whose broad, deep, and intensely luxurious mattress seemed to beckon with an overpoweringly seductive appeal.