Portions of the music of _Cenerentola_ lay open on the piano, and the leaves fluttered softly in a gentle breeze laden with perfumes from the garden.

Near by was swinging the beaded tassel of a book-mark between the pages of a half-opened volume.

He looked at the title and saw that it was Lalla Rookh.

He smiled, as he glanced round the room on the flowery festoons, the graceful tangle of bright arabesques on the walls, the Dancing Girl, and the Sleeping Cupid.

"All is in harmony with Canova, and Moore, and Rossini," thought he.