The Mysteries of Paris, vol 3 | Page 8

by his large green spectacles; but the
visible alteration of his features announced a consuming passion.
He crossed the office slowly, without saying a word to his clerks,
without appearing to notice their presence, entered the room of the head
clerk, walked through it, as well as his own cabinet, and descended
immediately by the little staircase which led to the court. Jacques

Ferrand having left behind him all the doors open, the clerks could,
with good reason, be astonished at the extraordinary motions of their
master, who came up one staircase and descended another, without
stopping in any of the chambers, which he had traversed mechanically.
The Countess M'Gregor, at least, was not his trouble. In showing La
Chouette Fleur-de-Marie's picture, she had exposed her jewels, and to
secure them, the hag poniarded the lady and decamped.
CHAPTER II.
THOU SHALT NOT LUST.
It was night. The profound silence which reigned in the house occupied
by Jacques Ferrand was interrupted at intervals by the sighing of the
wind, and by rain, which fell in torrents. These melancholy sounds
seemed to render still more complete the solitude of the dwelling. In a
bed-chamber on the first floor, very comfortably and newly furnished,
and covered with a thick carpet, a young woman was standing before
an excellent fire.
What was very strange, in the center of the door, which was strongly
bolted, and opposite the bed, was placed a small wicket of about five or
six inches square, which could be opened on the outside.
A reflecting lamp cast an obscure light in this room, which was hung
with garnet-colored silk; the curtains of the bed, as also the covering of
a large sofa, were of silk and worsted damask, of the same color.
We are minute in these details of furniture, so recently imported into
the dwelling of the notary, because it announces a complete revolution
in the habits of Jacques Ferrand, who, until then was of Spartan avarice
and meanness (above all as respected others) in all that concerned
living. It is then upon this garnet tapestry, a strong background, warm
in color, on which is delineated the picture we are going to paint.
Of tall and graceful stature, she is a quadroon in the flower of bloom
and youth. The development of her fine shoulders, and of her luxurious

person, makes her waist appear so marvelously slender, that one would
believe that she might use her necklace for a girdle.
As simple as it is coquettish and provoking, her Alsatian costume is of
strange taste, somewhat theatrical, and thus more calculated for the
effect that it was intended to produce.
Her spencer of black cassimere, half open on her swelling bosom, very
long in the body, with tight sleeves and plain back, is embroidered with
purple wool on the seams, and trimmed with a row of small chased
silver buttons. A short petticoat of orange merino, which seems of
exaggerated amplitude, although it fits admirably on the contours of
sculptural richness, allows a glance at the charming leg of the Creole,
in the scarlet stockings with blue clocks, just as it is met with among
the old Flemish painters, who show so complacently the garters of their
robust heroines.
Never did artist dream of an outline more pure than her limbs; strong
and muscular above their full calves, they terminated in a small foot,
quite at ease, and well arched in its very small shoe of black morocco
with silver buckles. She is standing before the glass on the
chimney-piece. The slope of her spencer displays her elegant, graceful
neck, of dazzling whiteness, but without transparency.
Taking off her cherry-colored cap, to replace it by a Madras kerchief,
the Creole displayed her thick and magnificent hair of bluish black,
which, divided in the middle of her forehead, and naturally curled,
descended no lower than the junction of the neck with the shoulders.
One must know the inimitable taste with which a Creole twists around
her head these handkerchiefs, to have an idea of the graceful
appearance, and of the piquant contrast of this tissue, variegated purple,
azure, and orange, with her black hair, which, escaping from the close
folds, surrounds with its large, silky curls her pale, but plump and firm
cheeks.
Her arms raised above her head, she finished, with her slender ivory
fingers, arranging a large bow, placed very low on the left side, almost
on the ear. Her features are of the kind it is impossible ever to forget.

A bold forehead, slightly projecting, surmounted a visage of perfect
oval, her complexion of a dead white, the satin-like freshness of a
camellia imperceptibly touched by a ray of the sun; her eyes of a size
almost immoderate, have a singular expression, for the pupil, extremely
large, black, and