“I am quite in accord with these views,” put in Madame Récamier, “and I move you, Mrs. President, that we organize a series of sub-committees—one on treachery, with Lucretia Borgia and Delilah as members; one on strategy, consisting of Portia and Queen Elizabeth; one on navigation, headed by Mrs. Noah; with a final sub-committee on reconnoitre, with Cassandra to look forward, and Mrs. Lot to look aft—all of these subordinated to a central committee of safety headed by Cleopatra and Calpurnia. The rest of us can then commit ourselves and our interests unreservedly to these ladies, and proceed to enjoy ourselves without thought of the morrow.”
“I second the motion,” said Ophelia, “with the amendment that Madame Récamier be appointed chair-lady of another sub-committee, on entertainment.”
The amendment was accepted, and the motion put. It was carried with an enthusiastic aye, and the organization was complete.
The various committees retired to the several corners of the room to discuss their individual lines of action, when a shadow was observed to obscure the moonlight which had been streaming in through the window. The faces of Calpurnia and Cleopatra blanched for an instant, as, immediately following upon this apparition, a large bundle was hurled through the open port into the middle of the room, and the shadow vanished.
“Is it a bomb?” cried several of the ladies at once.
“Nonsense!” said Madame Récamier, jumping lightly forward. “A man doesn’t mind blowing a woman up, but he’ll never blow himself up. We’re safe enough in that respect. The thing looks to me like a bundle of illustrated papers.”
“That’s what it is,” said Cleopatra who had been investigating. “It’s rather a discourteous bit of courtesy, tossing them in through the window that way, I think, but I presume they mean well. Dear me,” she added, as, having untied the bundle, she held one of the open papers up before her, “how interesting! All the latest Paris fashions. Humph! Look at those sleeves, Elizabeth. What an impregnable fortress you would have been with those sleeves added to your ruffs!”
“I should think they’d be very becoming,” put in Cassandra, standing on her tip-toes and looking over Cleopatra’s shoulder. “That Watteau isn’t bad, either, is it, now?”
“No,” remarked Calpurnia. “I wonder how a Watteau back like that would go on my blue alpaca?”
“Very nicely,” said Elizabeth. “How many gores has it?”