第130页
《简·爱(英文版)》章节:第130页,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
when I was to repair with my charge to the drawing-room. Adele had
been in a state of ecstasy all day, after hearing she was to be
presented to the ladies in the evening; and it was not till Sophie
commenced the operation of dressing her that she sobered down. Then
the importance of the process quickly steadied her, and by the time
she had her curls arranged in well-smoothed, drooping clusters, her
pink satin frock put on, her long sash tied, and her lace mittens
adjusted, she looked as grave as any judge. No need to warn her not to
disarrange her attire: when she was dressed, she sat demurely down
in her little chair, taking care previously to lift up the satin skirt
for fear she should crease it, and assured me she would not stir
thence till I was ready. This I quickly was: my best dress (the
silver-grey one, purchased for Miss Temple's wedding, and never worn
since) was soon put on; my hair was soon smoothed; my sole ornament,
the pearl brooch, soon assumed. We descended.
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 prendre 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