This one carried a large tray upon which
was set an exquisite porcelain tea-service. He placed the tray
upon a low table beside the divan, and in turn withdrew.
Deacon, seated in a great ebony chair, smoked rapidly and
nervously--looking about the strangely appointed room with its
huge picture of the Madonna, its jade Buddha surmounting a gilded
Burmese cabinet, its Persian canopy and Egyptian divan, at the
thousand and one costly curiosities which it displayed, at this
mingling of East and West, of Christianity and paganism, with a
growing wonder.
To one of his blood there was delight, intoxication, in that
room; but something of apprehension, too, now grew up within him.
Madame de Medici entered. The garish motor-coat was discarded
now, and her supple figure was seen to best advantage in one of
those dark silken gowns which she affected, and which had a
seeming of the ultra-fashionable because they defied fashion.
She held in her hand an orchid, its structure that of an
odontoglossum, but of a delicate green colour heavily splashed
with scarlet--a weird and unnatural-looking bloom.
Just within the doorway she paused, as Deacon leaped up, and
looked at him through the veil of the curved lashes.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349