V
AN ARISTOCRAT OF ARISTOCRATS
A swift journey of a thousand yards in this
enchanted vehicle along slushy and dangerous
pavements into the West End, that magic region
and golden home of the marvelous, saw the bewildered
young man and his companion, a veritable
prince who had stepped out of some fairy romance,
deposited before the portals of a palace raised by a
wizard in the centre of the streets of London. A
master-stroke of malice had placed this temple of
choice and rarity in the midst of acres of disease,
penury, and polluted air. The faces of the
ghostly denizens of these regions broke through
the shadows with dumb malevolence as the solicitor
and the advocate leaped to the portico. Hardly had
they reached it when they were assailed by light
and color, glittering liveries, gorgeous women. A
stealthy and perfumed warmth had even invaded
the outer atmosphere. The starving man opened
his lips and nostrils, and flung wide all the doors
of the senses in order to drink the sheen and scents,
the hues and odors. Like a poet of the Latin races
he sought to feed upon animal sensations. Here in
these bright saloons was the reverse of the medal,
of which in his garret that evening he had dreamed.
By no more than the wave of a wand he had been
transported into the plaisances of success.
As he entered this domain he was enchanted with
