HOW THE COURT OF VENUS BEHAVED STRANGELY AT HER SUPPER
At first there was the fun with the surprise packets that contained
myriads of amusing things, then a general criticism of the decorations,
everyone finding a delightful meaning in the fall of festoon, turn of
twig, and twist of branch. Pulex, as usual, bore the palm for insight
and invention, and to-night he was more brilliant than ever. He leant
across the table and explained to the young page, Macfils de Martaga,
what thing was intended by a certain arrangement of roses. The young
page smiled and hummed the refrain of "La petite balette." Sporion,
too, had delicate perceptions, and was vastly entertained by the
disposition of the candelabra.
As the courses advanced, the conversation grew bustling and more
personal. Pulex and Cyril and Marisca and Cathelin opened a fire of
raillery. The infidelities of Cerise, the difficulties of Brancas,
Sarmean's caprices that morning in the lily garden, Thorilliere's
declining strength, Astarte's affection for Roseola, Felix's impossible
member, Cathelin's passion for Sulpilia's poodle, Sola's passion
for herself, the nasty bite that Marisca gave Chloe, the épilatiere
of Pulex, Cyril's diseases, Butor's illness, Maryx's tiny cemetery,
Lesbia's profound fourth letter, and a thousand amatory follies of the
day were discussed.
From harsh and shrill and clamant, the voices grew blurred and
inarticulate. Bad sentences were helped out by worse gestures, and at
one table, Scabius could only express himself with his napkin, after
the manner of Sir Jolly Jumble in the "Soldier's Fortune" of Otway.
Basalissa and Lysistrata tried to pronounce each other's names, and
became very affectionate in the attempt, and Tala, the tragedian, robed
in ample purple, and wearing plume and buskin, rose to his feet, and
with swaying gestures began to recite one of his favourite parts. He
got no further than the first line, but repeated it again and again,
with fresh accents and intonations each time, and was only silenced by
the approach of the asparagus that was being served by satyrs costumed
in white muslin.
Clitor and Sodon had a violent struggle over the beautiful Pella, and
nearly upset a chandelier. Sophie became very intimate with an empty
champagne bottle, swore it had made her enciente, and ended by having
a mock accouchment on the top of the table; and Belamour pretended to
be a dog, and pranced from couch to couch on all fours, biting and
barking and licking. Mellefont crept about dropping love philtres into
glasses. Juventus and Ruella stripped and put on each other's things,
Spelto offered a prize for whoever should come first, and Spelto won
it! Tannhäuser, just a little grisé, lay down on the cushions and let
Julia do whatever she liked.
I wish I could be allowed to tell you what occurred round table 15,
just at this moment. It would amuse you very much, and would give you
a capital idea of the habits of Venus' retinue. Indeed, for deplorable
reasons, by far the greater part of what was said and done at this
supper must remain unrecorded and even unsuggested.
Venus allowed most of the dishes to pass untasted, she was so
engaged with the beauty of Tannhäuser. She laid her head many times
on his robe, kissing him passionately; and his skin, at once firm
and yielding, seemed to those exquisite little teeth of hers, the
most incomparable pasture. Her upper lip curled and trembled with
excitement, showing the gums. Tannhäuser, on his side, was no less
devoted. He adored her all over and all the things she had on, and
buried his face in the folds and flounces of her linen, and ravished
away a score of frills in his excess. He found her exasperating, and
crushed her in his arms, and slaked his parched lips at her mouth. He
caressed her eyelids softly with his finger tips, and pushed aside the
curls from her forehead, and did a thousand gracious things, tuning
her body as a violinist tunes his instrument before he plays upon it.
Priapusa snorted like an old war horse at the sniff of powder, and
tickled Tannhäuser and Venus by turns, and slipped her tongue down
their throats, and refused to be quiet at all until she had had a
mouthful of the Chevalier. Claude, seizing his chance, dived under
the table and came up the other side just under the queen's couch,
and before she could say "One!" he was taking his coffee "aux deux
colonnes." Clair was furious at his friend's success, and sulked for
the rest of the evening.