The Japanese prints were the only pictures visible that I could see. They seemed like Utamaro's and Hiroshige's mostly, though near by were a couple of Yoshitora's and Toyokuni's brilliant actresses, veritable riots of color against the dull green of the wall. The floor was of oak parquetry, covered with Persian rugs of what I knew to be rare weaves. Altogether, the room had, in its severe formal way, the dignity of a museum.
She came back, after about ten minutes, with a tray of toast and tea, a jar of Bar-le-duc, and the most appetizing of lamb chops.
"Do you feel hungry?" she asked, setting the tray down upon a stand at the head of the bed.
As I assented most heartily, she leaned over and propped the pillows up behind my back, and then set the silver salver before me on the spread. Drawing up her chair, she sat down near enough to pour the tea and hand me what else I required. As she did so I noted the delicate way she held everything she touched—her fingers slightly parted naturally, curling like an acanthus leaf.
"You say that I have been out of my head?" I began.
"Yes, at intervals, since yesterday afternoon."
"I dimly remember it, now. Yes, it was curious. Somehow, though, it seems to me that there were two women here, though never at the same time, I think—but no doubt I got it all mixed up."
She looked down quickly, as if confused, but she replied, "Oh, it must have been Leah,—the other one. She's my maid; or, perhaps, rather more my companion. You must see her. I think she's wonderful. I wonder if you will!" She made the last remark under her breath, as if she spoke to herself rather than to me.
She went to the door and called, "Leah!" So few persons can raise their voices prettily, that I was delighted to hear it sound as musical as when she spoke to me. As she returned, the light shone on her soft-flowing, silken gown, making it look like frosted silver. In a few moments Leah entered the room, bearing a lighted lamp.
I was surprised, I confess, after what my hostess had said, perhaps as a test of my sensibility, to see that the maid was a negress, but, after giving her my first glance, I was still more surprised to see that she was of a kind one seldom sees, the best type, in fact, of Northern negro. As she approached us she had the bearing of a woman of great refinement and a face which, though uncompromisingly dark, showed an extraordinary mental if not moral caste. Her skin was a warm brown, something of the color of a Samoan, though more reddish than mulatto in tinge. This, I found afterward, was the result of a remote crossing with American Indian blood; it was just enough to enrich the color, and to keep down some of the negroid fullness of the lips and modify the crispness of her curling hair. Leah might, indeed, be considered beautiful; what could not, at least, be denied, was the impression of character which was stamped upon her. It was patent in her face, her carriage and her voice. I watched her in admiration. There was a neatness and an immaculate cleanness about her, and I could easily understand how my hostess might regard her as a friend.