You entered the Alhambra by a Saracenic cloister, from the ceiling of
which an occasional lamp threw a gleam upon some Eastern arms hung up
against the wall. This passage led to the armory, a room of moderate
dimensions, but hung with rich contents. Many an inlaid
breastplate--many a Mameluke scimitar and Damascus blade--many a gemmed
pistol and pearl embroided saddle might there be seen, though viewed in
a subdued and quiet light. All seemed hushed and still, and shrouded in
what had the reputation of being a palace of pleasure.
In this chamber assembled the expected guests. His Grace and the Bird of
Paradise arrived first, with their foreign friends. Lord Squib and Lord
Darrell, Sir Lucius Grafton, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Peacock Piggott
followed, but not alone. There were two ladies who, by courtesy if no
other right, bore the titles of Lady Squib and Mrs. Annesley. There was
also a pseudo Lady Aphrodite Grafton. There was Mrs. Montfort, the
famous _blonde_, of a beauty which was quite ravishing, and dignified
as beautiful. Some said (but really people say such things) that there
was a talk (I never believe anything I hear) that had not the Bird of
Paradise flown in (these foreigners pick up everything), Mrs. Montfort
would have been the Duchess of St. James. How this may be I know not;
certain, however, this superb and stately donna did not openly evince
any spleen at her more fortunate rival. Although she found herself a
guest at the Alhambra instead of being the mistress of the palace,
probably, like many other ladies, she looked upon this affair of the
singing-bird as a freak that must end--and then perhaps his Grace, who
was a charming young man, would return to his senses. There also was
her sister, a long, fair girl, who looked sentimental, but was only
silly. There was a little French actress, like a highly finished
miniature; and a Spanish _danseuse_, tall, dusky, and lithe, glancing
like a lynx, and graceful as a jennet.
Having all arrived, they proceeded down a small gallery to the
banqueting-room. The doors were thrown open. Pardon me if for a moment I
do not describe the chamber; but really, the blaze affects my sight. The
room was large and lofty. It was fitted up as an Eastern tent. The walls
were hung with scarlet cloth tied up with ropes of gold. Round the room
crouched recumbent lions richly gilt, who grasped in their paw a lance,
the top of which was a colored lamp. The ceiling was emblazoned with the
Hauteville arms, and was radiant with burnished gold. A cresset lamp was
suspended from the centre of the shield, and not only emitted an equable
flow of soft though brilliant light, but also, as the aromatic oil
wasted away, distilled an exquisite perfume.
The table blazed with golden plate, for the Bird of Paradise loved
splendor. At the end of the room, under a canopy and upon a throne, the
shield and vases lately executed for his Grace now appeared. Everything
was gorgeous, costly, and imposing; but there was no pretense, save in
the original outline, at maintaining the Oriental character. The
furniture was French; and opposite the throne Canova's Hebe, by
Bertolini, bounded with a golden cup from a pedestal of _ormolu_.
The guests are seated; but after a few minutes the servants withdraw.
Small tables of ebony and silver, and dumb-waiters of ivory and gold,
conveniently stored, are at hand, and Spiridion never leaves the room.
The repast was most refined, most exquisite, and most various. It was
one of those meetings where all eat. When a few persons, easy and
unconstrained, unincumbered with cares, and of dispositions addicted to
enjoyment, get together at past midnight, it is extraordinary what an
appetite they evince. Singers also are proverbially prone to gormandize;
and though the Bird of Paradise unfortunately possessed the smallest
mouth in all Singingland, it is astonishing how she pecked! But they
talked as well as feasted, and were really gay. It was amusing to
observe--that is to say, if you had been a dumb-waiter, and had time for
observation--how characteristic was the affectation of the women. Lady
Squib was witty, Mrs. Annesley refined, and the pseudo Lady Afy
fashionable. As for Mrs. Montfort, she was, as her wont, somewhat
silent but excessively sublime. The Spaniard said nothing, but no doubt
indicated the possession of Cervantic humor by the sly calmness with
which she exhausted her own waiter and pillaged her neighbors. The
little Frenchwoman scarcely ate anything, but drank champagne and
chatted, with equal rapidity and equal composure.
"Prince," said the duke, "I hope Madame de Harestein approves of your
trip to England?"
The prince only smiled, for he was of a silent disposition, and
therefore wonderfully well suited his traveling companion.
"Poor Madame de Harestein!" exclaimed Count Frill. "What despair she was
in when you left Vienna, my dear duke. Ah! _mon Dieu!_ I did what I
could to amuse her. I used to take my guitar, and sing to her morning
and night, but without the least effect. She certainly would have died
of a broken heart, if it had not been for the dancing-dogs."
"The dancing-dogs!" minced the pseudo Lady Aphrodite. "How shocking!"
"Did they bite her?" asked Lady Squib, "and so inoculate her with
gayety?"
"Oh! the dancing-dogs, my dear ladies! everybody was mad about the
dancing-dogs. They came from Peru, and danced the mazurka in green
jackets with a _jabot!_ Oh! what a _jabot!_"
"I dislike animals excessively," remarked Mrs. Annesley.
"Dislike the dancing-dogs!" said Count Frill. "Ah, my good lady, you
would have been enchanted. Even the kaiser fed them with pistachio nuts.
Oh, so pretty! delicate leetle things, soft shining little legs, and
pretty little faces! so sensible, and with such _jabots!_"
"I assure you, they were excessively amusing," said the prince, in a
soft, confidential undertone to his neighbor, Mrs. Montfort, who,
admiring his silence, which she took for state, smiled and bowed with
fascinating condescension.
"And what else has happened very remarkable, count, since I left you?"
asked Lord Darrell.
"Nothing, nothing, my dear Darrell. This _bêtise_ of a war has made us
all serious. If old Clamstandt had not married that gipsy little
Dugiria, I really think I should have taken a turn to Belgrade."
"You should not eat so much, poppet," drawled Charles Annesley to the
Spaniard.
"Why not?" said the little French lady, with great animation, always
ready to fight anybody's battle, provided she could get an opportunity
to talk. "Why not, Mr. Annesley? You never will let anybody eat--I never
eat myself, because every night, having to talk so much, I am dry, dry,
dry--so I drink, drink, drink. It is an extraordinary thing that there
is no language which makes you so thirsty as French. I always have heard
that all the southern languages, Spanish and Italian, make you hungry."
"What can be the reason?" seriously asked the pseudo Lady Afy.
"Because there is so much salt in it," said Lord Squib.
"Delia," drawled Mr. Annesley, "you look very pretty to-night!"
"I am charmed to charm you, Mr. Annesley. Shall I tell you what Lord Bon
Mot said of you?"
"No, _ma mignonne_! I never wish to hear my own good things."
"_Spoiled_, you should add," said Lady Squib, "if Bon Mot be in the
case."
"Lord Bon Mot is a most gentlemanly man," said Delia, indignant at an
admirer being attacked. "He always wants to be amusing. Whenever he
dines out, he comes and sits with me half an hour to catch the air of
Parisian badinage."
"And you tell him a variety of little things?" asked Lord Squib,
insidiously drawing out the secret tactics of Bon Mot.
"_Beaucoup, beaucoup_," said Delia, extending two little white hands
sparkling with gems. "If he come in ever so--how do you call it?
heavy--not that--in the domps--ah! it is that--if ever he come in the
domps, he goes out always like a _soufflée._"
"As empty, I have no doubt," said Lady Squib.
"And as sweet, I have no doubt," said Lord Squib; "for Delcroix
complains sadly of your excesses, Delia."
"Mr. Delcroix complain of me! That, indeed, is too bad. Just because I
recommended Montmorency de Versailles to him for an excellent customer,
ever since he abuses me, merely because Montmorency has forgot, in the
hurry of going off, to pay his little account."
"But he says you have got all the things," said Lord Squib, whose great
amusement was to put Delia in a passion.
"What of that?" screamed the little lady. "Montmorency gave them to
me."
"Don't make such a noise," said the Bird of Paradise. "I never can eat
when there is a noise. St. James," continued she, in a fretful tone,
"they make such a noise!"
"Annesley, keep Squib quiet."
"Delia, leave that young man alone. If Isidora would talk a little more,
and you eat a little more, I think you would be the most agreeable
little ladies I know. Poppet! put those _bonbons_ in your pocket. You
should never eat sugar-plums in company."
Thus talking agreeable nonsense, tasting agreeable dishes, and sipping
agreeable wines, an hour ran on. Sweetest music from an unseen source
ever and anon sounded, and Spiridion swung a censer full of perfumes
around the chamber. At length the duke requested Count Frill to give
them a song. The Bird of Paradise would never sing for pleasure, only
for fame and a slight check. The count begged to decline, and at the
same time asked for a guitar. The signora sent for hers; and his
Excellency, preluding with a beautiful simper, gave them some slight
thing to this effect:--
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a gay little girl is charming Bignetta!
She dances, she prattles,
She rides and she rattles;
But she always is charming--that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a wild little witch is charming Bignetta!
When she smiles I'm all madness;
When she frowns I'm all sadness;
But she always is smiling--that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a wicked young rogue is charming Bignetta!
She laughs at my shyness,
And flirts with his highness;
Yet still she is charming--that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a dear little girl is charming Bignetta!
"Think me only a sister,"
Said she trembling; I kissed her.
What a charming young sister is--charming Bignetta!