Here, in short, was vice wholly
undisguised; recklessly showing itself to every eye, without the
varnish of beauty, without the tinsel of wit, without even so much as
the flavor of cleanliness to recommend it. Were all beholders
instinctively overcome by horror at the sight? Far from it. The
Snuggery was crammed to its last benches every night; and the
proprietor filled his pockets from the purses of applauding audiences.
For, let classical moralists say what they may, vice gathers followers
as easily, in modern times, with the mask off, as ever it gathered them
in ancient times with the mask on.
It was two o'clock in the morning; and the entertainments in the
Snuggery were fast rising to the climax of joviality. A favorite comic
song had just been sung by a bloated old man with a bald head and a
hairy chin. There was a brief lull of repose, before the amusements
resumed their noisy progress. Orders for drink were flying abroad in
all directions. Friends were talking at the tops of their voices, and
strangers were staring at each other--except at the lower end of the
room, where the whole attention of the company was concentrated
strangely upon one man.
The person who thus attracted to himself the wandering curiosity of all
his neighbors had come in late, had taken the first vacant place he
could find near the door, and had sat there listening and looking about
him very quietly.
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