To this charming little nest has Lord Scoutbush procured an evening's
admission after abject supplication to Sabina, who pets him because he
is musical, and solemn promises neither to talk or look any manner of
foolishness.
"My dearest Mrs. Mellot," says the poor wretch, "I will be good,
indeed I will; I will not even speak to her. Only let me sit and
look,--and--and--why, I thought you understood all about such things,
and could pity a poor fellow who was spoony."
And Sabina, who prides herself much on understanding such things,
and on having, indeed, reduced them to a science in which she
gives gratuitous lessons to all young gentlemen and ladies of her
acquaintance, receives him pityingly, in that delicious little back
drawing-room, whither whosoever enters is in no hurry to go out again.
Claude's house is arranged with his usual defiance of all
conventionalities. Dining or drawing-room proper there is none; the
large front room is the studio, where he and Sabina eat and drink, as
well as work and paint but out of it opens a little room, the walls of
which are so covered with gems of art (where the rogue finds money to
buy them is a puzzle), that the eye can turn nowhere without taking
in some new beauty, and wandering on from picture to statue, from
portrait to landscape, dreaming and learning afresh after every
glance. At the back, a glass bay has been thrown out, and forms a
little conservatory, for ever fresh and gay with tropic ferns and
flowers; gaudy orchids dangle from the roof, creepers hide the
framework, and you hardly see where the room ends, and the
winter-garden begins; and in the centre an ottoman invites you
to lounge.
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