France -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Women -- France -- Fiction
Noun had strewn the floor with the petals of Bengal roses, the divan was
covered with violets, a subtle warmth entered at every pore, and the
glasses gleamed on the table amid the fruit, whose ruddy cheeks were
daintily blended with green moss.
Dazzled by the sudden transition from darkness to brilliant light,
Raymon stood for a moment bewildered; but it was not long ere he
realized where he was. The exquisite taste and chaste simplicity which
characterized the furniture; the love stories and books of travel
scattered over the mahogany shelves; the embroidery frame covered with a
bright, pretty piece of work, the diversion of hours of patient
melancholy; the harp whose strings seemed still to quiver with strains
of love and longing; the engravings representing the pastoral attachment
of Paul and Virginie, the peaks of Ile Bourbon and the blue shores of
Saint-Paul; and, above all, the little bed half-hidden behind its muslin
curtains, as white and modest as a maiden's bed, and over the headboard,
by way of consecrated boxwood, a bit of palm, taken perhaps from some
tree in her native island, on the day of her departure;--all these
revealed the presence of Madame Delmare, and Raymon was seized with a
strange thrill as he thought that that cloak-enveloped woman who had led
him thither might be Indiana herself. This extravagant supposition
seemed to be confirmed when he saw, in the mirror opposite, a white
figure, the phantom of a woman entering a ball-room and laying aside her
cloak, to appear, radiant and half-nude, in the dazzling light. But it
was only a momentary error--Indiana would have concealed her charms more
carefully; her modest bosom would have been visible only through the
triple gauze veil of her corsage; she would perhaps have dressed her
hair with natural camellias, but they would not have frisked about on
her head in such seductive disorder; she might have encased her feet in
satin shoes, but her chaste gown would not have betrayed thus
shamelessly the mysteries of her shapely legs.
Taller and more powerfully built than her mistress, Noun was dressed,
not clothed in her finery. She was graceful but lacked nobility of
bearing; she was lovely with the loveliness of women, not of fairies;
she invited pleasure and gave no promise of sublime bliss.
Raymon, after scrutinizing her in the mirror without turning his head,
turned his eyes upon everything that was calculated to give forth a
purer reflection of Indiana--the musical instruments, the paintings, the
narrow, maidenly bed. He was intoxicated by the vague perfume her
presence had left behind in that sanctuary; he shuddered with desire as
he thought of the day when Indiana herself should throw open its
delights to him; and Noun, standing behind him with her arms folded,
gazed ecstatically at him, fancying that he was overwhelmed with delight
at the sight of all the pains she had taken to please him.
But he broke the silence at last.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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