At the Mercy of TiberiusEvans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
History
At the Mercy of Tiberius
Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
Rome -- History -- Tiberius, 14-37 -- Fiction
The room which she had occupied for more than forty years, presented a
singular melange of incongruous odds and ends, the flotsam of a long
term of service, where the rewards, if intrinsically incommensurate,
were none the less invaluable, to the proud recipient. The floor was
covered by a faded carpet, once the pride of the great drawing-room,
but the velvet pile had disappeared beneath the arched insteps and high
heels of lovely belles and haughty beaux, and the scarlet feathers and
peacock plumes that originally glowed on the brilliant buff ground,
were no longer distinguishable.
An old-fashioned piece of furniture, coeval with diamond shoe-buckles,
ruffled shirts and queues, a brass bound mahogany chiffonier, with
brass handles and tall brass feet representing cat claws, stood in one
corner; and across the top was stretched a rusty purple velvet strip,
bordered with tarnished gilt gimp and fringe, a fragment of the cover
which belonged to the harp on which General Darrington's grandmother
had played.
The square bedstead was a marvel in size and massiveness, and the heavy
mahogany posts nearly black with age, and carved like the twisted
strands of a rope, supported a tester lined with turkey-red pleatings,
held in the centre by the talons of a gilt spread-eagle. So tall was
the bed, that three steps were required to ascend it, and the space
thus left between the mahogany and the floor, was hidden by a valance
of white dimity, garnished with wide cotton fringe. Over this spacious
place of repose, a patchwork quilt of the "rising sun" pattern
displayed its gaudy rays, resembling some sprawling octopus, rather
than the face of Phoebus.
The contents of a wide mantel board flounced with fringed dimity,
(venerable prototype of macrame and Arrasene lambrequins), would have
filled with covetousness the soul of the bric-a-brac devotee; and
graced the counters of Sypher.
There were burnished brass candle-sticks, with extinguishers in the
shape of prancing griffins, and snuffers of the same metal, fashioned
after the similitude of some strange and presumably extinct saurian;
and a Dresden china shepherdess, whose shattered crook had long since
disappeared, peeped coquettishly through the engraved crystal of a tall
candle shade at the bloated features of a mandarin, on a tea-pot with a
cracked spout--that some Darrington, stung by the gad-fly of travel,
had brought to the homestead from Nanking. A rich blue glass vase
poised on the back of a bronze swan, which had lost one wing and part
of its bill in the combat with time, hinted at the rainbow splendors of
its native Prague, and bewailed the captivity that degraded its
ultra-marine depths into a receptacle for cut tobacco.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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