Antony and Cleopatra.
Lady St. Aubyn set down the Earl in Cavendish Square, and proceeded alone to the house of Lady Meredith in Portland Place. A carriage which appeared to be in waiting drove from the door to make way for her's, by which Ellen guessed Lady Meredith had company. To the inquiry whether her Ladyship were at home, she was answered in the affirmative, and requested to walk up stairs. Ellen was now tolerably well accustomed to magnificent houses; but there was something in the style of this different from any thing she had yet seen: the hall was not only warmed by superb stoves, but bronze figures, nearly as large as life, stood in different attitudes in every corner, and all bearing censers or urns, in which costly aromatics perpetually burnt, diffusing around a rich but almost overpowering perfume. As she ascended the staircase she found every possible recess filled with baskets, vases, &c. full of the most rare and expensive exotics, which bloomed even amidst the cold winds of March, with nearly as much luxuriance as they would have done in their native climes; for every part of this mansion was kept in a regular degree of heat by flues passing through the walls and beneath the floors communicating with fires, which were not visible: when, on the other hand, the weather became warm, the cambric sun-blinds at every window were kept perpetually moistened with odoriferous waters, by two black servants, whose whole employment it was to attend to this branch of luxury; indeed, to luxury alone the whole mansion appeared to be dedicated. The floors were not merely covered, but carpetted with materials, whose softness and elasticity seemed produced by a mixture of silk and down: the sofas, ottomans, &c. were not merely stuffed, but every one had piles of cushions appertaining to it, filled with eider-down, and covered with the richest silks or velvets. To the presiding goddess of this superb temple Lady St. Aubyn was presently introduced. In her boudoir Lady Meredith sat, or rather lay, not on a chair or sofa, but on piles of cushions, covered with the finest painted velvet. Her majestic, though somewhat large figure, appeared to great advantage in the studied half-dress in which she now appeared; yet there was something in her attitude, in the disposal of her drapery, from which the modest eye of Ellen was involuntarily averted. Her dress was of the finest and whitest muslin that India ever produced, and clung around her so closely as fully to display the perfect symmetry of her form: the sleeves were full, and so short, they scarcely descended below the shoulder, which not the slightest veil shaded from the beholder's gaze, while the delicate arms thus exposed were decorated with rows of what she called undress pearls: they were of an extraordinary size and beauty, and were formed into armlets and bracelets of fanciful but elegant fashion: two or three strings, and a large Maltese cross of the same, were the only covering of her fair bosom, and a few were twisted loosely amongst her dark but glossy and luxuriant hair. At her feet sat a lovely little girl about four years old, with a low hassock before her, on which she was displaying the contents of one of mamma's caskets of jewels, as well amused as the great Potemkin himself could have been by arranging his diamonds in different figures on black velvet; a favourite entertainment of that extraordinary man.
On one side of Lady Meredith sat a gay young officer in the uniform of the guards, and on the other a stiff formal looking old lady in a dress somewhat old fashioned, but more remarkable for being excessively neat and prim: she had a sour contemptuous look, and her stays and whole figure had the stiff appearance of a portrait of the last century. She levelled her eye-glass at Ellen, as she followed the servant who announced her into the room, and with an emphatic humph! (not unlike poor Mrs. Ross's) let it fall again as if perfectly satisfied with one look, and not feeling any wish to repeat it; yet repeat it she did, again and again, and, as if the review displeased or agitated her, her countenance became still more and more sour. In the meantime Lady Meredith half rose from her cushions, and holding out her hand, languidly said:—
"My dear Lady St. Aubyn, how good you are to come and see me! I am delighted I happened to be at home. Andrew," (to the servant, who, having placed a chair, was retiring) "don't give Lady St. Aubyn that shocking chair: bring a heap of those cushions and arrange them like mine: do rest on them, my dear creature; you must be fatigued to death."
"Excuse me," said Ellen, smiling with modest grace; "I am not accustomed to such a luxurious seat, and prefer a chair."
"Do you really? Is it possible!" exclaimed the languishing Lady, sinking back again as if the exertion of speaking had been too much for her. "Well, I should absolutely die in twelve hours if I might not be indulged in this delicious mode of reposing."
"Nonsense!" said the stiff old lady, in no very conciliating tone; "how can you be so ridiculous: pray how do you manage when you sit six or eight hours at pharo, or go to the Opera—you have none of those silly things there?"
"Oh, as to pharo, dear delightful pharo, that keeps me alive, prevents my feeling fatigued even when my unfortunate feet cannot command so much as a poor little footstool; and as to the Opera, I wonder your Ladyship asks, for you know very well, my box, and the cushions belonging to it, are stuffed with eider-down, like these," and she sunk still more indolently on her yielding supporters. "Apropos of the Opera," added she; "have you obtained a box there, Lady St. Aubyn?"
"No," replied Ellen: "Lord St. Aubyn had one offered to him, but as it is so late in the season, and our stay in town will not be long, I begged him to decline it."
Lady Meredith here exchanged a smile of contempt with the officer, which seemed to say "how rustic that is!" then half yawning she said:—