"Tallow-dips or spermaceti?" called Tom from behind the screen, in a loud voice.
"High-arched ceilings over our heads," I continued, regardless of this interruption. "Finally we came to the Salle des Négres,—so called because at the doors which lead from there to the apartments of the Emperor, two Arabians, dressed in white, are stationed as guards. Next came an octagonal room, lined with tables holding tea, cakes, and ices. So on, through more magnificent halls—"
"Did you count all this in your two or three miles?" asked Tom meekly; but I vouchsafed no reply.
"The floors were polished until they were like ice. At last we came to a perfect dream of splendor. It was a long corridor, ornamented with plants, and containing a table which ran the entire length of it, holding tea, cakes, and other refreshment. The green plants, the white table-cloth, the glittering glass and silver, the lights overhead, all grew smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until they dwindled into nothing, simply because the eye could reach no farther."
"Oh, come now!" as I stopped for comment.
"True, Tom," spoke up Judith.
"This corridor," I continued, "was separated from the ball-room by a row of Corinthian columns, which were wound with evergreens interspersed with lighted candles. The room was immensely high, a balcony with carved balustrade surrounded it, and the walls were lined with immense palms and magnolias. Servants in red, yellow, and white livery stood behind the tables to
