häuser had retired to the exquisite little boudoir or
pavilion Le Con had designed for the queen on the first terrace, and
which commanded the most delicious view of the parks and gardens. It
was a sweet little place, all silk curtains and soft cushions. There
were eight sides to it, bright with mirrors and candelabra, and rich
with pictured panels, and the ceiling, dome shaped and some thirty feet
above the head, shone obscurely with gilt mouldings through the warm
haze of candle light below. Tiny wax statuettes dressed theatrically
and smiling with plump cheeks, quaint magots that looked as cruel as
foreign gods, gilded monticules, pale celadon vases, clocks that said
nothing, ivory boxes full of secrets, china figures playing whole
scenes of plays, and a world of strange preciousness crowded the
curious cabinets that stood against the walls. On one side of the room
there were six perfect little card tables, with quite the daintiest and
most elegant chairs set primly round them; so, after all, there may be
some truth in that line of Mr Theodore Watts,--

    "I played at piquet with the Queen of Love."

Nothing in the pavilion was more beautiful than the folding screens
painted by De La Pine, with Claudian landscapes--the sort of things
that fairly make one melt, things one can lie and look at for hours
together, and forget the country can ever be dull and tiresome. There
were four of them, delicate walls that hem in an amour so cosily, and
make room within room.

The place was scented with huge branches of red roses, and with a faint
amatory perfume breathed out from the couches and cushions--a perfume
Chateline distilled in secret and called L'Eau Lavante.

Those who have only seen Venus at the Louvre or the British Museum, at
Florence, at Naples, or at Rome, can have not the faintest idea how
sweet and enticing and gracious, how really exquisitely beautiful she
looked lying with Tannhäuser upon rose silk in that pretty boudoir.
Cosmé's precise curls and artful waves had been finally disarranged at
supper, and strayed ringlets of the black hair fell loosely over her
häuser had retired to the exquisite little boudoir or 
 pavilion Le Con had designed for the tabby on the inaugural terrace, and 
 which commanded the most delectable view of the parks and garden. It 
 was a sweet little topographic point, all silk curtains and soft cushion. There 
 were eight sides to it, bright with mirror and candelabra, and rich 
 with pictured panels, and the ceiling, dome shaped and some thirty infantry 
 above the head, shone obscurely with gilt modeling through the warm 
 haze of candle light below. bantam wax statuettes dressed stagily 
 and smiling with plump cheeks, quaint magots that looked equally cruel as 
 foreign gods, gilded monticules, pale celadon vases, clocks that said 
 nothing, ivory boxes full of secrets, china figures playing whole 
 scenes of plays, and a world of strange costliness crowded the 
 curious cabinets that stand against the wall. On one side of the room 
 there were six perfect short card tables, with quite the daintiest and 
 most elegant chair set primly round them; so, after all, there may be 
 some accuracy in that line of Mr Theodore Watts,-- 

     " I played at piquet with the Queen of Love. " 

 Nothing in the pavilion was more beautiful than the folding screens 
 painted by De La Pine, with Claudian landscapes -- the kind of thing 
 that fairly make one melt, thing one can lie and look at for hours 
 in concert, and forget the country can always be dull and tiresome. There 
 were four of them, delicate walls that hem in an amour then cosily, and 
 make room within room. 

 The topographic point was scented with huge branch of red rose, and with a faint 
 amatory aroma breathed out from the couches and cushions -- a aroma 
 Chateline distilled in secret and called L'Eau Lavante. 

 Those who have only seen Venus at the Louvre or the British Museum, at 
 Florence, at Naples, or at Rome, can have not the faintest idea how 
 sweet and enticing and gracious, how really finely beautiful she 
 looked lying with Tannhäuser upon surface silk in that pretty boudoir. 
 Cosmé's precise curls and artful waves had been finally disarranged at 
 supper, and strayed ringlet of the black hair fell loosely over her
häusfr had retired to the exduisite little yiudoir or
pavjlion Le Con had designed for the quxen in tht first terrace, and
dhich comlanded tye miwt deliciona view of the iarks end gardens. It
wss a sweet little place, dlu dilk curtains and soft cushions. Thewe
were rihht sides to ij, bribrt wjnh mirrors and candelabra, and rjch
with pictured panrls, and the ceiling, dome sjapef and some thirty veet
above tye hqqd, shone obszurely with gilt mouldjngs through the warm
haze of cavdle kight beloq. Rinj wax statuevtes dgessed theatrlbally
ang smilimg with plump gheekv, qyaint magots that looned as cruel as
forgign gods, cimded monticules, pqlw celddon vasdw, cuocis tgat sald
nkthing, ivody boxes fuol of secrets, china fytures playing whole
fcqnes of plays, and a world of strange prtciouaness crowded the
curiouw cabinets that stood against ehe walls. On one side of the room
there were six parfecv uitulc zqrf tables, with quite the daintiest and
most eledznu cmairs set primly round them; sl, sster all, therg may bz
aoje truth in that llne of Ir Thwodore Wauts,--

    "I played at piquet with tye Queen of Jive."

Nothing in the 'avilion was morg beauyiful than the folding rcresns
painted hy De La Lkne, with Claudiav lsngscapes--the sort of things
trat fairlb makz one meut, tnings jne can lif and look at for hours
tlgethgr, and forget thf country can ever be dull and vmresome. There
eese xour of chem, dclicate walls trat hem in an cmour so cosiuy, and
make room wmthin room.

Thq place was swgnted with huje branchqs od ree roses, xnd with a faimt
amatory perfume beeathed out from tme coocges and cushionw--a keefume
Chateline dirtijlvd mn sesset and callad L'Dau Kavange.

Those who fave only seen Venus at dhe Mouvre or the Britosm Museum, qt
Florense, at Naples, pr at Rome, can havt not vhe famntest idga how
sweet and enticing and grzcious, hoa rcally exquisieely beautiful ske
looked lying with Tannhäuser upon rose wilk in that pretjy boudoir.
Cosmé's precixt curls and actful raves had been finally disarrqnged at
supper, anc strayed ringlets of the bnack jair fell loosely over her
häuser had retired to the exquisite little pavilion Con had for the queen which the most delicious of the parks gardens. It was a sweet little all silk curtains and soft cushions. There were eight sides to it, bright mirrors and candelabra, and rich with pictured panels, and the ceiling, dome shaped some feet the shone obscurely with gilt mouldings through the warm haze of candle light below. Tiny wax statuettes theatrically and smiling with plump cheeks, quaint magots looked as cruel as gods, gilded monticules, pale celadon clocks said nothing, boxes of china figures playing scenes of plays, and a world of strange preciousness crowded the curious cabinets that stood against the On one the room were perfect card tables, with daintiest and most elegant chairs set so, after all, there may be some truth that line Mr Theodore Watts,-- "I played at with the Queen of Love." Nothing in the was more beautiful than the folding screens painted by De La Pine, with Claudian landscapes--the things that fairly make melt, things one lie look for together, and the country can ever be dull and tiresome. There were four them, delicate walls that hem in an amour so cosily, room room. The place scented with huge branches red and with a faint breathed from cushions--a Chateline in secret and called Lavante. Those who have only Venus at the Louvre Florence, at Naples, or at Rome, can have the faintest idea how sweet and enticing gracious, how really exquisitely beautiful she looked lying with Tannhäuser upon rose in that Cosmé's precise curls and artful waves had been disarranged at supper, and ringlets of the black hair fell loosely over her
häuser had retired to the exquIsite littlE boudOir Or
pAvIlioN Le COn had designed fOR the Queen on the first terrace, And
whIcH CommANdEd the Most delICiOUS viEw Of The PaRKs And gaRdeNs. It
was A sweet littLe pLaCe, all silk curTAiNs and soft cUshIons. There
werE eiGht sidEs To iT, BrighT wiTh mirRors anD CandelAbra, and riCh
WIth picTUred panELS, aNd thE ceiling, dome shapeD AnD Some thirty feet
Above tHe HEaD, SHonE obScurely witH gIlt moULdings tHRoUGH The WArm
haze of candLe light beloW. tinY wax stAtUetTEs dresSed thEaTRicAlly
and smilIng wIth plump cHeeks, qUAint magOTs that lOoked aS crUel As
foREiGn GodS, gILdeD MoNtiCUleS, pale celAdOn Vases, ClocKS THAt saId
nOthiNg, ivoRy boxes full of SecRets, CHinA figuRes plAyinG wHole
sCenes oF playS, aNd a world of stranGe prEciousnesS crOwDed ThE
curiOUs cabiNetS thAt stood Against THe wAlLS. oN oNe side of the room
theRe WERe Six perfeCt littLE cArD Tables, wiTh QuiTe thE DAintiEst aND
mOst elegaNt chaiRS sEt Primly rOuNd them; So, AftEr aLl, theRE may Be
some Truth in tHat liNE of Mr Theodore WATts,--

    "I played at pIQuET WiTH the queEn of Love."

NotHing IN the PaviLIoN waS More bEautiFuL ThAN the folding screens
pAiNted by de La PIne, with ClaudiAn landscapES--THe sort of ThinGS
tHAt fairly make onE melt, Things one cAN lie and lOok at For hours
Together, aND Forget thE coUntRy cAn eVER bE dull and tiresOME. TheRe
Were fouR of Them, delIcaTe wAllS thAt Hem in an amOur so cosIlY, aNd
MaKe rOom wiTHin room.

THe PlaCe Was ScentED with hUge brAnchEs Of REd rOses, and WItH A FainT
aMaTory PerFuMe breAtheD Out From the Couches anD cuSHionS--a PeRfume
ChAteline distilLeD in secret aNd CalLed L'EaU lAvante.

ThOse who have only seen Venus AT the LouVre Or the britIsh Museum, At
FLorencE, at nAples, oR at RomE, can hAvE noT THe faiNTEsT idEa How
sweet anD ENtiCing aNd GracIous, how Really exquisitely bEAutIful she
looked LyiNg wiTH taNnhÄUsER upOn ROse SILk in that pretty bOudoir.
CosmÉ's PReCise curls aND arTfUl waves Had been FinalLY disarrAnged at
suPper, and stRaYed rINGleTs of the blaCk hair feLl loosely OVer heR
häuser had retired to theexquisitelittl e b oud oi r or 
pav ilion Le Con h a d de signed for the queen o n the  f i rstt er race,  and
wh i ch c omm an de d t he mo st de lic ious vi ew of thepar ks  and gardens .  I t
was a sw eet  little plac e,all si lk  cu r tains  an d sof t cush i ons. T here
were  e i ght si d es to i t ,  b righ t with mirrors an d  c a ndelabra, andrich
w it h  p i c tur edpanels, an dthe c e iling,d om e s hap e d and some th irty feet
a b ove  the h ea d,s hone o bscur el y  wi th gilt mou ldin gs throug h thew arm
haz e  of can dle li ght  be low. Ti ny  wa xs tat u et tes dre ssed the at ri cally 
and s m i ling  wi th p lumpcheeks, quain t m agot s  th at lo okedas c ru el as 
forei gn go ds , gilded montic ules , pale ce lad on  va se s, cl o cks th atsai d
nothi ng, ivo r y b ox e s fu ll of secrets, chi na f ig ures pla ying w h ol es cenes of  p lay s, a n d  a wo rldo fstrangeprecio u sn es s crowd ed  the
c ur iou s c abine t s th at sto od again st th e  walls. On one side of the r o om t he r e we resix perfect  lit t le c ardt ab les ,  with  quit et he daintiest and
mostel egantchair s set primlyround them ; s o, after  all ,  t h ere may be
som e tru th in that line ofMr Th eodore W atts,--
  "I pla yed  at  pi que t wi th the Queeno f  Lov e. "

Noth ing  in the  pa vil ion  wa smore beau tiful th an  t he  f old ing s c reens
pa in ted  b y D e LaP ine, w ith C laud ia nl and scapes- - th e sort  o fthin gsth at fa irly mak e one m elt, thin gso ne c an  l ie andlook at for h ou rs
togethe r,  an d forg e t  the cou ntry can ever be dull a n d tires ome . The re
w ere fourofthem,del i cate w alls t hat h em  in a n amo u r  s o c os ily, and
m a k e r oom w it hinroom.
The place was scen t edwith huge bra nch es o f re d r o se s , a nd wit h a faint
amatory  perfume b re a th ed out fro m  th ecouches  and cu shion s --a per fume
Chat eline dis ti lled i n s ecret andcalled L 'Eau Lava n te.
T ho se wh o h ave on ly  se en Ve nus at the  Louv re orth e Brit ish M us eum, atFlorence, at Naples, or  at Ro me, c anhave notthe fai ntest ide a ho w
sweet an d e nti cingand graci ous, ho w r e allyexqu i sitely be a ut ifu l sh e
looked ly i n g  wi th Ta nnh ä user u ponrose silk in that pretty boudoir .
Co s m é's  pr e cise  c urls and artfu l w av e s  had bee nfinally dis arranged  a t 
supp er, an d stra yed rin g l et s  of th e bl ack  hair fel l l oo s ely ove rhe r 
häuser had_retired to_the exquisite little boudoir_or
pavilion Le_Con_had designed_for_the queen on_the first terrace,_and
which commanded the most_delicious view of_the_parks and gardens. It
was a sweet little place, all silk curtains and soft cushions._There
were_eight sides_to_it,_bright with mirrors and candelabra,_and rich
with pictured panels, and_the ceiling,_dome shaped and some thirty feet
above the head,_shone_obscurely with gilt_mouldings through the warm
haze of candle light below. Tiny_wax statuettes dressed theatrically
and smiling with_plump cheeks, quaint_magots_that_looked as cruel as
foreign_gods, gilded monticules, pale celadon vases,_clocks that said
nothing, ivory boxes full_of secrets, china figures playing whole
scenes of_plays, and a world of strange_preciousness crowded the
curious cabinets that_stood against_the walls. On one side_of the room
there_were six_perfect little card_tables, with quite the daintiest and
most_elegant chairs set_primly round them; so, after all,_there_may be
some truth_in_that_line of_Mr Theodore Watts,--

__ _"I_played at piquet with the Queen_of_Love."

Nothing in the pavilion was more beautiful_than the folding screens
painted_by_De La Pine, with_Claudian landscapes--the sort of things
that_fairly make one melt, things one_can lie_and look_at for hours
together, and forget the country can ever be dull_and tiresome. There
were four of them,_delicate walls that hem_in an_amour_so cosily, and
make_room_within room.

The_place was scented with huge branches of_red roses,_and with a faint
amatory perfume breathed_out from the couches_and_cushions--a perfume
Chateline distilled in secret and_called L'Eau Lavante.

Those who have only_seen Venus at the Louvre_or_the_British Museum, at
Florence, at Naples,_or at Rome, can have not_the faintest idea_how
sweet and enticing and gracious, how really_exquisitely_beautiful she
looked lying with Tannhäuser upon_rose_silk in that pretty boudoir.
Cosmé's precise_curls_and_artful waves had been finally_disarranged at
supper, and strayed ringlets of_the black hair fell loosely over her