the Carved-Ivory Odalisque.

And as I sat there in the Twilight Glare of the Slowly-Consuming Embers on the Wide and Deep, Old-Fashioned, Open Fire-place, with Lacquered-Brass Fire-Dogs—beneath the Spell of those Stealthy, Roguish Glances, I, against My Wish and Will, was led to Think of The dark, strange and weirdly grotesque things of which My Friend had Told me.

And finally, as under the Strange Fascination of the Vitreous Dexter and Sinister Eyes of The Carved-Ivory Odalisque, which Held me Spell-Bound, I Learned from the Thin, Curled Lips of the said Carved-Ivory Odalisque its Own Story.

It was not Created by Love.

Nor was it in Itself the Embodiment of Love. But it Bore in one of its Flexible Ribs the Tangible Evidence of the Adhesive Qualities of a Love Driven Back upon itself,—the Concentration of an Otherwise Wasted Force.

Less than a Thousand Years ago, a Dudish Roderick Dhu stood Flustrated with Fiery Indignation, face to face with a Maiden Priestess—a Prideful, Haughty Woman!

It was on the Rue Quatrieme. It was at the Intersection of two great Thoroughfares.

The Clouds had Parted their Bangs in the Middle, and were Shimmering their Crystal Drops of Distilled Ocean in torrental volume upon the Luckless Wayfarers.