Jane Eyre - Page 155/412

Fortunately there was another entrance to the drawing-room than that

through the saloon where they were all seated at dinner. We found

the apartment vacant; a large fire burning silently on the marble

hearth, and wax candles shining in bright solitude, amid the

exquisite flowers with which the tables were adorned. The crimson

curtain hung before the arch: slight as was the separation this

drapery formed from the party in the adjoining saloon, they spoke in

so low a key that nothing of their conversation could be

distinguished beyond a soothing murmur.

Adele, who appeared to be still under the influence of a most

solemnising impression, sat down, without a word, on the footstool I

pointed out to her. I retired to a window-seat, and taking a book

from a table near, endeavoured to read. Adele brought her stool to

my feet; ere long she touched my knee.

"What is it, Adele?"

"Est-ce que je ne puis pas prendrie une seule de ces fleurs

magnifiques, mademoiselle? Seulement pour completer ma toilette."

"You think too much of your 'toilette,' Adele: but you may have a

flower." And I took a rose from a vase and fastened it in her sash.

She sighed a sigh of ineffable satisfaction, as if her cup of

happiness were now full. I turned my face away to conceal a smile I

could not suppress: there was something ludicrous as well as

painful in the little Parisienne's earnest and innate devotion to

matters of dress.

A soft sound of rising now became audible; the curtain was swept

back from the arch; through it appeared the dining-room, with its

lit lustre pouring down light on the silver and glass of a

magnificent dessert-service covering a long table; a band of ladies

stood in the opening; they entered, and the curtain fell behind

them.

There were but eight; yet, somehow, as they flocked in, they gave

the impression of a much larger number. Some of them were very

tall; many were dressed in white; and all had a sweeping amplitude

of array that seemed to magnify their persons as a mist magnifies

the moon. I rose and curtseyed to them: one or two bent their

heads in return, the others only stared at me.

They dispersed about the room, reminding me, by the lightness and

buoyancy of their movements, of a flock of white plumy birds. Some

of them threw themselves in half-reclining positions on the sofas

and ottomans: some bent over the tables and examined the flowers

and books: the rest gathered in a group round the fire: all talked

in a low but clear tone which seemed habitual to them. I knew their

names afterwards, and may as well mention them now.