Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)Colmache, M., active 19th century
History
Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)
Colmache, M., active 19th century
Talleyrand-Périgord, Charles Maurice de, prince de Bénévent, 1754-1838
“She was attired in a robe of her own invention, made of some kind
of woollen stuff of the purest white, long, full, and flowing, with
sleeves which reached to the very ground; the whole was edged with
silver, and the robe was confined at the waist by a silver girdle.
Her hair, which was still beautiful as ever, although not quite of so
bright a golden hue as I remembered it, hung loose down her back and
over her bosom, reaching to the waist in the most beautiful ringlets,
which, whether the effect of nature or of art, were well calculated to
enhance the expression of her inspired attitudes. There was exquisite
coquetry in the manner in which, by a gentle movement, she shook the
ringlets from her brow, in order to clear her vision, when any new
visitor drew near, and in the peculiarly graceful motion with which
she would draw her hand now and then across her eyes, as if to shade
the light for an instant, during which the snowy fingers, laden with
gems, glistened through the drooping curls with an effect perfectly
bewildering.
“She was reclining upon a low divan which ran along the wall, supported
by cushions of crimson velvet, which set off her fair complexion and
the dazzling whiteness of her dress to the greatest advantage. On one
side stood the Emperor Alexander, attired in a suit of black, with
no mark of his high rank save the glittering star of brilliants on
his bosom. If he had come prepared to heighten the effect of Madame
de Krudener’s _tableau_, he could not have adopted a costume and
bearing more in harmony with her intentions. On the other side, leaning
backward in his chair, with the most perfect nonchalance imaginable,
sat the King of Prussia _en personne_. Before I had recovered from the
surprise which the latter discovery had occasioned, my hand was seized
in a friendly grasp by my old friend and ally, Bergasse, who, together
with a sombre, wild-looking individual, was seated on a low stool at
the feet of the prophetess, both having, apparently, been occupied in
transcribing the words which fell from her lips, for each was armed
with a _calpin_ and pencil-case.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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