Therefore it was with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction that these two young people descended the staircase. Curiosity, because they were sure of a surprise, no matter how things were arranged, and satisfaction, because, as has been stated, they were quite satisfied with their own and each other's appearance.
Having reached the last step of the stairs, they were met by a very magnificently attired young man, whom they had hitherto known as their hostess's big brother; but to-night he was no less a personage than the imperious Duke of Illyria. He asked each her name; and escorting Bessie in first, because she was the taller, he presented her to his sister as Maria, and immediately afterwards Hortense, as Viola, or the page Cesario. The hostess took the character of the Lady Olivia, and wore the apparel befitting the daughter of a wealthy duke. Her dress was white chiffon over white silk, and was spangled with gold dust. She wore a long necklace of pearls, and strings of pearls kept back her wavy though high-dressed hair.
Notwithstanding the fact that Hortense and Bessie were sure of each other for company, they did feel considerably confused at the singular strangeness of the scene, for the large rooms were filled with young people who seemed almost to have come from another world, so oddly were they attired; and they certainly were a part of another century, country, and station. For so carefully the costuming had been done, that, in fancy, the older people, who were the hostess's mother, father, and two great-aunts, could well believe they were living about the year 1600, and that they formed a part of a great pageant, that the Lord of Misrule was about somewhere, and William Shakespeare also, and that Christmas was a Christmas worth having this year, for it was lingering so long and so happily. Therefore, when the older people were so much impressed with the odd sight of children coming in Twelfth-Night costume, it was no wonder that the children were not a little awed until woke up first by the didos of the clown, and then by a party of revellers covered with white masks and dominoes, who fantastically capered and danced before them; then it was the awed feeling passed, and the spirit of wildest jollity followed. These revellers were none other than a dozen of the hostess's particular friends, whom she had prepared so to do.
None of the Twelfth-Night characters were missing—indeed, they were prominently conspicuous. Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, of whom Sir Toby said, "Thou art a scholar"; Malvolio, correctly yellow-stockinged and cross-gartered; my most exquisite Sir Topas; the two sea-captains, one the friend of Viola, and the other of her brother; the lost Sebastian; Feste, the clown; and lords, priests, officers, musicians, servants, and attendants.
So when all had at last arrived, the parlor was a rare and charming sight. Such a mixture of color and fantasy! Lavender, pink, and yellow silk hose; powdered hair, and as white, curled, or wavy wigs; velvet satin-lined short cloaks, velvet or silk knee-breeches; dark blue and white sailor's dress; navy-blue clothed and brass-buttoned sea-captains, scarlet and gold-buttoned officers, black-robed priests; Swiss-embroidered or lace flounces, trained velvets, white jackets, natty costumes, furbelows of all sorts; as also tambourines, banjos, mandolins, violins, and all the other musical instruments that formed a part of this altogether gay people that composed the dramatis personæ of Twelfth-Night.
The house was large and richly furnished, a proper setting for Olivia, daughter of a duke; to add to the grandeur and lavish beauty, rare plants and masses of flowers had been effectively placed. Yards and yards of evergreen and laurel were twined in and out and around staircase and fret-work. Holly and bay-leaves were wound most generously around pictures and over doorways; and mistletoe, the plant that the ancients bought from the Druids to wear about the neck to keep away the witches, was suspended from every chandelier.
Early in the evening the sailors, sea-captains, and musicians disappeared, but with great hilarity soon returned, the sailors preceding, with the Captains at the head, drawing in the Yule-log. This was nothing more nor less than a rugged log, knotted at each end with long strong ropes, by which it was pulled. As they drew it, the sailors sang, the musicians accompanying:
"Welcome be ye that are here,
Welcome all, and make good cheer;
Welcome all another year,
Welcome Yule."
And this verse was sung over and over, until the Yule-log lay on the hearth-stone.