And the judge led him into the thick of the crowd.

Little more than a year before the judge had said, in speaking of Ishmael:  “Of course, owing to the circumstances of his birth, he never can hope to attain the position of a gentleman, never.”  But the judge had forgotten all about that now.  People usually did forget Ishmael’s humble origin in his exalted presence.  I use the word “exalted” with truth, as it applied to his air and manner.  The judge certainly forgot that Ishmael was not Society’s gentleman as well as “nature’s nobleman,” when, taking him through the crowd, he said: 

“I shall introduce you to some young ladies.  The first one I present you to will be Miss Tourneysee, the daughter of General Tourneysee.  You must immediately ask her to dance; etiquette will require you to do so.”

“But,” smiled Ishmael, “I am already engaged to dance the next set with Bee.”

“You verdant youth.  So, probably, is she—­Miss Tourneysee, I mean—­engaged ten sets deep.  Ask her for the honor of her hand as soon as she is disengaged,” replied the judge, who straightway led Ishmael up to a very pretty young girl, in blue crepe, to whom he presented the young man in due form.

Ishmael bowed and proffered his petition.

The case was not so hopeless as the judge had represented it to be.  Miss Tourneysee was engaged for the next three sets, but would be happy to dance the fourth with Mr. Worth.

At that moment the partner to whom she was engaged for the quadrille, then forming, came up to claim her hand, and she arose and slightly courtesied to Judge Merlin and Ishmael Worth, and walked away with her companion.

Ishmael looked around for his own lovely partner, and Bee, smiling at a little distance, caught his eye.  He bowed to Judge Merlin and went up to her and led her to the head of one of the sets about to be formed.

In the meantime, “Who is he?” whispered many voices, while many eyes followed the stranger who had come among them.

Among those who observed the entrance of Ishmael was the Viscount Vincent.  Half bending, in an elegant attitude, with his white-gloved hand upon the arm of the sofa where Miss Merlin reclined, he watched the stranger.  Presently he said to her: 

“Excuse me, but—­who is that very distinguished-looking individual?”

“Who?” inquired Claudia.  She had not noticed the entrance of Ishmael.

“He who just now came in the room—­with Judge Merlin, I think.  There, he is now standing up, with that pretty little creature in white with the golden ringlets.”

“Oh,” said Claudia, following his glance.  “That ‘pretty little creature’ is my cousin, Miss Middleton.”

“I beg ten thousand pardons,” said Vincent.

“And her partner,” continued Claudia, “is Mr. Worth, a very promising young—­” She could not say gentleman; she would not say man; so she hesitated a little while, and then said:  “He is a very talented young law student with my papa.”