"Women in society," I said to myself, looking about me, "must be mad to amuse themselves in this fashion."
"And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive costume?"
"Good evening, Captain," called out a laughing voice from behind the screen on the right.
"We were expecting you," came from behind the screen on the left.
"Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?"
"It is not a play," observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her sea- weed draperies. "How behind the age you are, to think that any one plays set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a 'tableau vivant', 'The judgment of Paris.' You know 'The Judgment of Paris'? I take the part of Venus—I did not want to, but they all urged me—give me a pin—on the mantelpiece—near the bag of bonbons—there to the left, next to the jewel-case—close by the bottle of gum standing on my prayer-book. Can't you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my throat to compel me to play Venus."
Turning to the screen on the right she said: "Pass me the red for the lips, dear; mine are too pale." To the hairdresser, who is making his way to the door: "Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the billiard-room, and in the Baron's dressing-room, they perhaps may need you. Madame de S. and her daughters are in the boudoir—ah! see whether Monsieur de V. has found his apple again—he plays Paris," added my aunt, turning toward me once more; "the apple must not be lost—well, dear, and that red for the lips I asked you for? Pass it to the Captain over the screen."
"Here it is; but make haste, Captain, my cuirass cracks as soon as I raise my arm."
I descried above the screen two slender fingers, one of which, covered with glittering rings, held in the air a little pot without a cover.
"What,—is your cuirass cracking, Marchioness?"