OF THE MANNER IN WHICH VENUS WAS COIFFED AND PREPARED FOR SUPPER
Before a toilet that shone like the altar of Nôtre Dame des Victoires,
Venus was seated in a little dressing-gown of black and heliotrope.
The coiffeur Cosmé was caring for her scented chevelure, and with tiny
silver tongs, warm from the caresses of the flame, made delicious
intelligent curls that fell as lightly as a breath about her forehead
and over her eyebrows, and clustered like tendrils about her neck. Her
three favourite girls, Pappelarde, Blanchemains, and Loreyne, waited
immediately upon her with perfume and powder in delicate flagons and
frail cassolettes, and held in porcelain jars the ravishing paints
prepared by Chateline for those cheeks and lips that had grown a little
pale with anguish of exile. Her three favourite boys, Claude, Claire,
and Sarrasine, stood amorously about with salver, fan and napkin.
Millamant held a slight tray of slippers, Minette some tender gloves,
La Popelinière, mistress of the robes, was ready with a frock of yellow
and yellow. La Zambinella bore the jewels, Florizel some flowers,
Amadour a box of various pins, and Vadius a box of sweets. Her doves,
ever in attendance, walked about the room that was panelled with the
gallant paintings of Jean Baptiste Dorat, and some dwarfs and doubtful
creatures sat here and there, lolling out their tongues, pinching each
other, and behaving oddly enough. Sometimes Venus gave them little
smiles.
As the toilet was in progress, Priapusa, the fat manicure and fardeuse,
strode in and seated herself by the side of the dressing-table,
greeting Venus with an intimate nod. She wore a gown of white watered
silk with gold lace trimmings, and a velvet necklet of false vermilion.
Her hair hung in bandeaux over her ears, passing into a huge chignon
at the back of her head, and the hat, wide-brimmed and hung with a
vallance of pink muslin, was floral with red roses.
Priapusa's voice was full of salacious unction; she had terrible little
gestures with the hands, strange movements with the shoulders, a short
respiration that made surprising wrinkles in her bodice, a corrupt
skin, large horny eyes, a parrot's nose, a small loose mouth, great
flaccid cheeks, and chin after chin. She was a wise person, and Venus
loved her more than any of her other servants, and had a hundred pet
names for her, such as, Dear Toad, Pretty Pol, Cock-robin, Dearest Lip,
Touchstone, Little Cough-drop, Bijou, Buttons, Dear Heart, Dick-dock,
Mrs Manly, Little Nipper, Cochon-de-lait, Naughty-naughty, Blessèd
Thing, and Trump.
The talk that passed between Priapusa and her mistress was of that
excellent kind that passes between old friends, a perfect understanding
giving to scraps of phrases their full meaning, and to the merest
reference, a point. Naturally Tannhäuser, the new comer, was discussed
a little. Venus had not seen him yet, and asked a score of questions on
his account that were delightfully to the point.
Priapusa told the story of his sudden arrival, his curious wandering in
the gardens, and calm satisfaction with all he saw there, his impromptu
affection for a slender girl upon the first terrace, of the crowd of
frocks that gathered round and pelted him with roses, of the graceful
way he defended himself with his mask, and of the queer reverence he
made to the statue of the God of all gardens, kissing that deity with
a pilgrim's devotion. Just now Tannhäuser was at the baths, and was
creating a most favourable impression.
The report and the coiffing were completed at the same moment.
"Cosmé," said Venus, "you have been quite sweet and quite brilliant,
you have surpassed yourself to-night." "Madam flatters me," replied the
antique old thing, with a girlish giggle under his black satin mask.
"Gad, Madam; sometimes I believe I have no talent in the world, but
to-night I must confess to a touch of the vain mood." It would pain me
horribly to tell you about the painting of her face; suffice it that
the sorrowful work was accomplished frankly, magnificently, and without
a shadow of deception.
Venus slipped away the dressing-gown, and rose before the mirror in
a flutter of frilled things. She was adorably tall and slender. Her
neck and shoulders were so wonderfully drawn, and the little malicious
breasts were full of the irritation of loveliness that can never be
entirely comprehended, or ever enjoyed to the utmost. Her arms and
hands were loosely but delicately articulated, and her legs were
divinely long. From the hip to the knee, twenty-two inches; from the
knee to the heel, twenty-two inches, as befitted a Goddess.
I should like to speak more particularly about her, for generalities
are not of the slightest service in a description. But I am afraid that
an enforced silence here and there would leave such numerous gaps in
the picture that it had better not be begun at all than left unfinished.
Those who have only seen Venus in the Vatican, in the Louvre, in
the Uffizi, or in the British Museum, can have no idea of how very
beautiful and sweet she looked. Not at all like the lady in "Lemprière."
Priapusa grew quite lyric over the dear little person, and pecked at
her arms with kisses.
"Dear Tongue, you must really behave yourself," said Venus, and called
Millamant to bring her the slippers.
The tray was freighted with the most exquisite and shapely pantoufles,
sufficient to make Cluny a place of naught. There were shoes of grey
and black and brown suède, of white silk and rose satin, and velvet and
sarcenet; there were some of sea-green sewn with cherry blossoms, some
of red with willow branches, and some of grey with bright-winged birds.
There were heels of silver, of ivory, and of gilt; there were buckles
of very precious stones set in most strange and esoteric devices;
there were ribands tied and twisted into cunning forms; there were
buttons so beautiful that the button-holes might have no pleasure till
they closed upon them; there were soles of delicate leathers scented
with maréchale, and linings of soft stuffs scented with the juice of
July flowers. But Venus, finding none of them to her mind, called for
a discarded pair of blood-red maroquin, diapered with pearls. These
looked very distinguished over her white silk stockings.
As the tray was being carried away, the capricious Florizel snatched as
usual a slipper from it, and fitted the foot over his penis, and made
the necessary movements. That was Florizel's little caprice. Meantime,
La Popelinière stepped forward with the frock.
"I shan't wear one to-night," said Venus. Then she slipped on her
gloves.
When the toilet was at an end all her doves clustered round her feet,
loving to frôler her ankles with their plumes, and the dwarfs clapped
their hands, and put their fingers between their lips and whistled.
Never before had Venus been so radiant and compelling. Spiridion, in
the corner, looked up from his game of Spellicans and trembled. Claude
and Clair, pale with pleasure, stroked and touched her with their
delicate hands, and wrinkled her stockings with their nervous lips, and
smoothed them with their thin fingers; and Sarrasine undid her garters
and kissed them inside and put them on again, pressing her thighs with
his mouth. The dwarfs grew very daring, I can tell you. There was
almost a mêlée. They illustrated pages 72 and 73 of Delvau's Dictionary.
In the middle of it all, Pranzmungel announced that supper was ready
upon the fifth terrace. "Ah!" cried Venus, "I'm famished!"