A Love Story, by a Bushman | Page 7

even in Paris--that Babylonian sink of iniquity.
Dinner was announced, and our host, giving his arm very stoically to Mrs. Glenallan, his love of former days, led the way to the dining-room. Round the table were placed beautifully carved oaken fauteuils, of a very old pattern. The service of plate was extremely plain, but of massive gold. But the lamp! It was of magnificent dimensions! The light chains hanging from the frescoed ceiling, the links of which were hardly perceptible, were of silver, manufactured in Venice; the lower part was of opal-tinted glass, exactly portraying some voluptuous couch, on which the beautiful Amphitrite might have reclined, as she hastened through beds of coral to crystal grot, starred with transparent stalactites. In the centre of this shell, were sockets, whence verged small hollow golden tubes, resembling in shape and size the stalks of a flower. At the drooping ends of these, were lamps shaped and coloured to imitate the most beauteous flowers of the parterre. This bouquet of light had been designed by Mr. Gr?me. Few novelties had acquired greater celebrity than the Gr?me astrale. The room was warmed by heating the pedestals of the statues.
"Potage �� la fant?me, and �� l'ourika."
"I will trouble you, Gr?me," said my Lord Chamb��ry, "for the fant?me. I have dined on la pritanni��re for the last three months, and a novel soup is a novel pleasure."
Of the fish, the soles were �� la Rowena, the salmon �� l'amour. Emily flirted with the wing of a chicken saut�� au supr��me, coquetted with perdrix perdu masqu�� �� la Montmorenci, and tasted a boudin �� la Diebitsch. The wines were excellent--the Geisenheim delicious--the Champagne sparkling like a pun of Jekyll's. But nothing aroused the attention of the Viscount Chamb��ry so much as a liqueur, which Mr. Gr?me assured him was new, and had just been sent him by the Conte de Desir. The dessert had been some time on the table, when the Viscount addressed his host.
"Gr?me! I am delighted to find that you at length agree with me as to the monstrous superiority of a French repast. Your omelette imaginaire was faultless, and as for your liqueur, I shall certainly order a supply on my return to Paris."
"That liqueur, my dear lord," replied Mr. Gr?me, "is good old cowslip mead, with a flask of Maraschino di Zara infused in it. For the rest, the dinner has been almost as imaginaire as the omelet. The greater part of the recipes are in an old English volume in my library, or perhaps some owe their origin to the fertile invention of my housekeeper. Let us style them �� la Doroth��e."
"Capital! I thank you, Gr?me!" said his Grace of Gatten, as he shook his host by the hand, till the tears stood in his eyes.
The prescient Chamb��ry had made a good dinner, and bore the joke philosophically. Coffee awaited the gentlemen in a small octagonal chamber, adjoining the music room. There stood Mr. Gr?me's three favourite modern statues:--a Venus, by Canova--a Discobole, by Thorwaldson--and a late acquisition--the Ariadne, of Dannecker.
"This is the work of an artist," said Mr. Gr?me, "little known in this country, but in Germany ranking quite as high as Thorwaldson. This is almost a duplicate of his Ariadne at Frankfort, but the marble is much more pure. How wonderfully fine the execution! Pray notice the bold profile of the face; how energetic her action as she sits on the panther!"
Mr. Gr?me touched the spring of a window frame. A curtain of crimson gauze fell over a globe lamp, and threw a rich shade on the marble. The features remained as finely chiselled, but their expression was totally changed.
They adjourned to the music-room, which deserved its title. Save some seats, which were artfully formed to resemble lyres, nothing broke the continuity of music's tones, which ascended majestically to the lofty dome, there to blend and wreath, and fall again. At one extremity of music's hall was an organ; at the other a grand piano, built by a German composer. Ranged on carved slabs, at intermediate distances, was placed almost every instrument that may claim a votary. Of viols, from the violin to the double bass,--of instruments of brass, from trombones and bass kettledrums even unto trumpet and cymbal,--of instruments of wood, from winding serpents to octave flute,--and of fiddles of parchment, from the grosse caisse to the tambourine. Nor were ancient instruments wanting. These were of quaint forms and diverse constructions. Mr. Gr?me would descant for hours on an antique species of spinnet, which he procured from the East, and which he vehemently averred, was the veritable dulcimer. He would display with great gusto, his specimens of harps of Israel; whose deep-toned chorus, had perchance thrilled through the breast of more than one of Judea's dark-haired daughters. Greece, too,