He then put a small round box in the Chevalier's hand, saying, "One before each meal," and turning to the lady with caressing professional accents said, "We must wrap ourselves closely and endeavor to induce perspiration," and hurried away, dragging the Chevalier with him.

When they reached a secluded corner, he said, "You had just now a kind of feeling, don't you know, as if you'd sort of been there before, didn't you ?" "Yes, what you call a--preexistence," said the Chevalier wonderingly.
"Yes; I have often observed that those who doubt a future state of existence have no hesitation in accepting a previous one," said the doctor dryly.

"But come, I see from the way the crowd are hurrying that your divinity's number is up--I mean," he corrected himself hastily, "that she is probably dancing again." "Aha! with him, the imbecile McFeckless ?" gasped the Chevalier.
"No, alone." She was indeed alone, in the centre of the ballroom--with outstretched arms revolving in an occult, weird, dreamy, mystic, druidical, cabalistic circle.

They now for the first time perceived the meaning of those strange wands which appeared to be attached to the many folds of her diaphanous skirts and involved her in a fleecy, whirling cloud.
Yet in the wild convolutions of her garments and the mad gyrations of her figure, her face was upturned with the seraphic intensity of a devotee, and her lips parted as with the impassioned appeal for "Light! more light!" And the appeal was answered.

A flood of blue, crimson, yellow, and green radiance was alternately poured upon her from the black box of a mysterious Nubian slave in the gallery.