My immediate need, however, was for a valet.  Puzzled as to the manners and customs of the gods, I did not wish to make a bad appearance in the dining-room in a costume which should not be appropriate.  I did think of ordering breakfast served in my room, but that seemed a very mortal and not a particularly godlike thing to do.  Hence, I rang for a valet.

[Illustration:  “Anything could be got for the ringing”]

“I will tell him to get out my morning-suit, and no doubt he will select the thing I ought to wear,” I said as I pressed the button.

The response was instant.  My fingers had hardly left the button when a superb creature stood before me.  Whence he sprang I do not know.  There were no opening of doors, no traps or false panels, that I could see.  The individual simply materialized.

“At your service, sir,” said he, with a graceful obeisance.

“Pardon me,” I replied, overcome once more by what was going on.  “I—­ah—­think there must be some mistake.  I—­ah—­I didn’t ring for a god, I rang for a valet.”

“I am the valet of Olympus, sir,” he replied, gracefully flicking a speck of dust from the calf of his leg, the contour of which was beautiful to look upon, clad in superbly fitting silken tights.  “Adonis, at your service.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, I declare!” I cried, lost now in admiration of the way the gods were ordering things on Olympus.  “So they’ve made you a valet, have they?”

“Yes,” replied Adonis.  “I hold office for the six months that I am here.  You know that I am a resident of Olympus only half the time.  The balance I live in Hades.”

“It’s a common custom,” said I.  “Even with us, our swellest people go south for the winter.”

“Hum—­yes,” said Adonis, somewhat confused.  “It’s very good of you to draw that parallel.  Your construction of the situation does credit to your sense of what is polite, sir.  Unfortunately for me, however, my position is more like that of the habitual criminal who is sent to the penitentiary periodically.  I have to go, whether I want to or not.”

“Still, it must be a pleasant variation,” I observed, forgetting that it is bad form to converse with a servant, and remembering only that I was addressing an old flame of Madame Venus.  “Hades isn’t a bad place for a little while, I should fancy.”

“True,” sighed Adonis.  “But the society there is very mixed.  It’s full of self-made immortals, whereas we are all immortals by birth.”

“And who, pray,” I queried, “takes your place while you are below?”

“Narcissus,” he replied; “but there’s generally a lot of complaint about him.  He takes more pains dressing himself than he does in looking after guests, the result of which is that after my departure things get topsy-turvy, and by the time I get back, with the exception of Narcissus, there isn’t a well-dressed god in all Olympus.”