CONVERSATIONHAUS AT BADEN.
CONCERT IN THE GARDENS AT BADEN.
ALL KINDS OF WOMEN.
The spectacle, I have said, is brilliant; and indeed it is. The saloons are adorned like palaces; immense mirrors, in deep gilt frames, are upon the walls; rich silk and lace curtains depend from the windows; gorgeous chandeliers diffuse their radiance; velvet sofas invite to rest, and the clink of gold tempts to hazard. About the tables are gathered young and lovely women, richly dressed, from the cities of the old world and the new, and men in fashionable attire, representing various ranks, professions, and callings. There are dowager duchesses from England, pretty countesses from France, fleshy baronesses from Germany, delicate maidens from America, lorettes from Paris, adventuresses from Naples, danseuses from Petersburg, and actresses from Vienna. Spanish grandees stand shoulder to shoulder with French communists, who fought like tigers for the possession of the French capital; Calabrian bandits, who have retired, independent, from the trade of throat-cutting, are in close contact with honest Holland burghers; Russian princes hand their stakes to professional blacklegs recently arrived from London; Swiss statesmen exchange nods with bankrupt gamesters; and Belgian chevaliers of industry smile, as they win, upon Teutonic philanthropists risking a few napoleons, simply for lack of something better to do.
The air of the players is entirely genteel, and their manners completely negative and subdued. Whether they are lucky or unlucky, would seem to make no difference to them; they give no outward sign; their faces are usually immovable, unless high breeding, as it is commonly understood, prompts them to look cheerful when they lose, and melancholy when they win.
The slightest disturbance is very rare in the saloons. I have been in them, day after day, without noticing the least departure from order, or the smallest violation of conventional courtesy. Occasionally, some undisciplined man manifests his nervousness and excitement outwardly, when, if the stony stare or facial disapproval of those about him does not chill him back to conventional bearing, the lackeys, always in attendance, induce him to carry his demonstrations into the open air.