No cold air penetrated here; it was as warm and balmy as a spring day in Southern Italy.

Light Indian bamboo chairs provided with luxurious velvet cushions were placed in various corners between the marble columns, and on one of these I seated myself to rest a minute, wondering what I should do next, and whether anyone would come to ask me the cause of my intrusion.

My meditations were soon put to flight by the appearance of a young lad, who crossed the hall from the left-hand side and approached me.

He was a handsome boy of twelve or thirteen years of age, and he was attired in a simple Greek costume of white linen, relieved with a broad crimson silk sash.

A small flat crimson cap rested on his thick black curls; this he lifted with deferential grace, and, saluting me, said respectfully: "My master is ready to receive you, mademoiselle." I rose without a word and followed him, scarcely permitting myself to speculate as to how his master knew I was there at all.
The hall was soon traversed, and the lad paused before a magnificent curtain of deep crimson velvet, heavily bordered with gold.