Over the mosaic dog with his warning lettering, "Cave Canem," strolled, one warm evening in June, a young man of twenty-four, whose physical appearance was more in keeping with the classical surroundings than were his faultlessly fitting dress-clothes. His oval, clean-shaven face was that of a pure-blooded Hellene, his curly golden hair and large blue eyes like the sky of Italy at noon, suggested the Sun-god, and his figure, limber, active, and slender, resembled the Hermes of the Palestra. He was almost aggressively handsome, and apparently knew that he was, for he swaggered in with a haughty lord-of-the-world air, entirely confident of himself and of his capabilities. His exuberant vitality was as pronounced as were his good looks, and there was a finish about his toilette which hinted at a determination to make the most of his appearance. He assuredly succeeded in accentuating what Nature had done for him, since even the attendant, who approached to remove the young man's light overcoat, appeared to be struck by this splendid vision of perfect health, perfect beauty, and perfect lordship of existence. All the fairies must have come to the cradle of this fortunate young gentleman with profuse gifts. He seemed to be the embodiment of joyous life.
"Is Mr. Arthur Vernon here?" he asked, settling his waistcoat, touching the flower in his button-hole, and pulling a handkerchief out of his left sleeve.
"In the pinacotheca, sir," was the reply, for all the attendants were carefully instructed in correct pronunciation. "Shall I tell him you are here, Mr. Maunders?"
The gentleman thus named yawned lazily. "Thanks, I shall see him myself;" and with a nod to the man, he walked lightly through the atrium, looking like one of Flaxman's creations, only he was more clothed.
Throwing keen glances right and left to see who was present and who was not, Mr. Maunders entered the pinacotheca. This was an oblong apartment with marble walls on three sides and a lordly range of pillars on the fourth, which was entirely open to the gardens. Beyond could be seen the luxuriant vegetation of the undergrowth, whence sprang tall palms, duplicated in the background of mirrors. The mosaic pavement of the smoking-room was strewn with Persian praying-mats, whose vivid colouring matched the pictured floor. There were deep armchairs and softly-cushioned sofas, all upholstered in dark red leather, which contrasted pleasantly with the snowy walls. Many small tables of white metal and classical shapes were dotted here, there, and everywhere. As it was mid-June and extremely close, the fireplace--looking somewhat incongruous in such a place--was filled with ferns and white flowers, in red pots of earthenware, thus repeating the general scheme of colour. Red and white, snow and fire, with a spread of green in the viridarium--nothing could have been more artistic.