Charles Auchester, Volume 1 (of 2)Sheppard, Elizabeth Sara
General
Charles Auchester, Volume 1 (of 2)
Sheppard, Elizabeth Sara
Musical fiction
He led me along a passage on the ground-floor of the entrance hall and
through an official-looking apartment to a lively scene indeed. This
was a room without walls, a sort of garden-chamber leading to the
grounds of the Academy, now crowded; for the concerto had concluded,
with the whole performance, and the audience had dispersed
immediately, though not by the way we came, for we had met no one.
Pillars here and there upheld the roof, which was bare to the beams,
and also dressed with garlands. Long tables were spread below, all
down the centre, and smaller ones at the sides, each covered with
beautiful white linen, and decked with fluttering ribbons and little
knots of flowers. Here piles of plates and glasses, coffee-cups and
tureens, betokening the purport of this pavilion; but they were
nothing to the baskets trimmed with fruits, the cakes and fancy bread,
the masses of sweetmeat in all imaginable preparation. The middle of
the largest table was built up with strawberries only, and a rill of
cream poured from a silver urn into china bowls at the will of a
serene young female who seemed in charge. A great many persons found
their way hither, and were crowding to the table, and the refreshing
silence was only broken by the restless jingle of spoons and crockery.
My guide smiled with a sprightly air.
"Come! we must find means to approach as well, for the strawberry
pyramid will soon not have left one stone upon another."
I made way instantly to the table, and with no small difficulty
smuggled a plate and had it filled with strawberries. I abjured the
cream, and so did he to whom I returned; but we began to wander up and
down.
"Let me recommend you," said he, "a slice of white bread; it is so
good with strawberries; otherwise you must eat some sausage, for that
fruit will never serve alone,--you might as well starve entirely, or
drink dew-water."
"I don't see any bread," I answered, laughing; "it is all eaten."
"Oh, oh!" he returned, and with the air of Puck he tripped across the
pavilion to a certain table from which the fair superintendent had
flown. The ribbons and wreaths danced in the breeze, but the white
linen was bare of a single loaf.
"I _must_ have some bread for thee, Carlomein; and I, indeed, myself
begin to feel the want unknown to angels."
Could this be the same, it struck me, who discoursed like an angel of
that high throng? So animated was he, such a sharp brightness sparkled
in his eyes.
"Somebody has run away with the loaf on purpose," he continued, with
his dancing smile; "I saw a charming loaf as I came in, but then the
strawberries put it out of my head, and lo! it is gone."
"I _will_ get some bread!" and off I darted out of the pavilion, he
after me, and all eyes upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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