I ascended the steps with some hesitation, and twice I extended my hand towards the bell, desiring yet fearing to awaken its summons.  I noticed it was an electric bell, not needing to be pulled but pressed; and at last, after many doubts and anxious suppositions, I very gently laid my fingers on the little button which formed its handle.  Scarcely had I done this than the great door slid open rapidly without the least noise.  I looked for the servant in attendance—­there was none.  I paused an instant; the door remained invitingly open, and through it I caught a glimpse of flowers.  Resolving to be bold, and to hesitate no longer, I entered.  As I crossed the threshold, the door closed behind me instantly with its previous swiftness and silence.

I found myself in a spacious hall, light and lofty, surrounded with fluted pillars of white marble.  In the centre a fountain bubbled melodiously, and tossed up every now and then a high jet of sparkling spray, while round its basin grew the rarest ferns and exotics, which emitted a subtle and delicate perfume.  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.  Pulling a twisted cord that hung beside it, the heavy, regal folds parted in twain with noiseless regularity, and displayed an octagon room, so exquisitely designed and ornamented that I gazed upon it as upon some rare and beautiful picture.  It was unoccupied, and my young escort placed a chair for me near the central window, informing me as he did so that “Monsieur le Comte” would be with me instantly; whereupon he departed.