The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1Sue, Eugène
General
The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1
Sue, Eugène
Paris (France) -- Fiction
The entrance to this immense hothouse was from a long gallery glittering
with gold, with mirrors, crystal vases filled with the choicest
perfumes, and brilliantly lighted, and also raised a few steps above the
fairy palace we have been endeavouring to describe. The dazzling
brightness of the approach served as a sort of penumbra, in which were
indistinctly traced out the gigantic exotics discernible through a
species of arch, partly concealed by two crimson velvet curtains looped
back with golden cords so as to give a dim and misty view of the
enchanted land that lay beyond. An imaginative mind might easily have
persuaded himself he stood near a huge window opening on some beautiful
Asiatic landscape during the tranquillity of a summer's twilight.
The sounds of the orchestra, weakened by distance, and broken by the
joyous hum proceeding from the gallery, died languidly away among the
motionless foliage of the huge trees. Insensibly each fresh visitant to
this enchanting spot lowered his voice until his words fell in whispers;
for the light genuine air, embalmed with a thousand rich odours,
appeared to cast a sort of somnolency over the senses; every breath
seemed to speak of the clustering plants whose balmy sweetness filled
the atmosphere. Certainly two lovers, seated in some corner of this
Eden, could conceive no greater happiness to be enjoyed on earth, than
thus dreamily to rest beneath the trees and flowers of this terrestrial
paradise.
At the end of this winter garden were placed immense divans beneath
canopies of leaves and flowers; the subdued light of the hothouse
forming a powerful contrast with the gallery, the distance seemed filled
with a species of gold-coloured, shining fog, in the midst of which
glittered and flickered, like a living embroidery, the dazzling and
varied robes of the ladies, combined with the prismatic scintillations
of the congregated mass of diamonds and precious stones. Rodolph's first
sensation upon arriving at this enchanting triumph of art over nature
was that of most unfeigned surprise.
"This is, indeed, a wonderfully beautiful carrying out of a poetical
idea," said he, almost involuntarily; then, turning to the ambassadress,
he exclaimed, "Madame, till now, I had not deemed such wonders
practicable. We have not in the scene before us a mere union of
unbounded expense with the most exquisite taste, but you give us poetry
in action. Instead of writing as a master poet, or painting as a
first-rate artist, you create that which they would scarcely venture to
dream of."
"Your royal highness is too indulgent."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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