Against the hangings of pale rose-colored silk--a faded Turkish rose
color, embroidered with gold thread--a whole world of them stood sharply
outlined. They were from every land and in every possible style. There
were Italian cabinets, Spanish and Portuguese coffers, models of Chinese
pagodas, a Japanese screen of precious workmanship, besides china,
bronzes, embroidered silks, hangings of the finest needlework. Armchairs
wide as beds and sofas deep as alcoves suggested voluptuous idleness and
the somnolent life of the seraglio. The prevailing tone of the room
was old gold blended with green and red, and nothing it contained too
forcibly indicated the presence of the courtesan save the luxuriousness
of the seats. Only two "biscuit" statuettes, a woman in her shift,
hunting for fleas, and another with nothing at all on, walking on her
hands and waving her feet in the air, sufficed to sully the room with a
note of stupid originality.
Through a door, which was nearly always ajar, the dressing room was
visible. It was all in marble and glass with a white bath, silver jugs
and basins and crystal and ivory appointments. A drawn curtain filled
the place with a clear twilight which seemed to slumber in the warm
scent of violets, that suggestive perfume peculiar to Nana wherewith the
whole house, from the roof to the very courtyard, was penetrated.
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