of a debate, and kindle it with magic joy or freeze it 
with scorn implacable.  D . . . , his expression no-
ble and commanding, yet sly, as if ever ready to 
laugh at the intricacies of his own intellect, sat 
next to him, his deep and wondrous eyes lit with 
strange light, while with words like burning flames 
of steel he shore asunder the sophistries of one, 
the complacencies of another.  They were feared, 
these two !  There also did he meet the well known 
ethicist, I . . . , fair as a boy, with boy’s golden 
locks curling about his Grecian head ;  I . . . , the 
pure and subtle-minded student, whose lively hu-
mour and sparkling sarcasm were as froth upon 
the deep and terrible waters of his polished 
irony.  It was a pity that he drank.  There the great 
surgeon, and true gentleman, in spite of his exag-
gerated respect for the memory of Queen Victoria, 
J . . . , would join in with his ripe and generous 
wit.  Handsome as a god, with yet a spice of devil’s 
laughter lurking there, he would sit and enjoy the 
treasures of the conversation, adding at the proper 
interval his own rich quota of scholarly jest. 
Needless to say, so brilliant a galaxy attracted 
all the false lights of the time.  T . . . , the braggart, 
the mediocre painter, the lusty soi-disant ma-
quereau of marchionesses, would seek admission 
(which was in theory denied to none).  But the cut-
ting wit of C . . . drove him headlong, as if by the 
Cherubim, from the Gates of the Garden of 
Eden.  G . . . , the famous society painter, came 
one night, and was literally hounded out of the 
room by a swift and pitiless attack on the part of 
D . . . and the young ethicist.  A bullet-headed Yan-
kee, rashly supporting him, shared the same fate, 
and ever after sat in solitary disgrace downstairs, 
like a whipped hound outside its master’s 
door.  The subject of conversation did not mat-
ter.  A fool reveals himself, though he talk but of 
greasing gimlets, in such a fierce light as beat 
[8]