Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ticuiar evening of which we are writing? As radiantly perfect in her own particular style of beauty as Lucrezia was in her's. If the blue eyes of the Marchioness seemed to swim in a luminous fluid, impassioned and tender like the light of a summer-day mellowed towards the setting of the sun,—so were the large dark orbs of her young friend full of fire in their depths, but subdued in their glances by the languor which was associated with her sensuous nature. If there was a dazzling polish on Lucrezia’s skin, so white, and of the purity of Carrara marble,— so was there a half-shining animation on the deli- cate brunette complexion of Ciprina. If it might be said that the Marchioness had ivory instead of teeth, so of Ciprina it would be said that they were pearls which shone between the moist vermilion of the lips. If Lucrezia’s form might be described as a superb and glowing assemblage of admirable con- tours—so with equal accuracy it might be affirmed that Ciprina’s figure was an exquisite perfection of more delicately rounded proportions. If Lu- crezia’s corsaze seemed ready to burst with the heaving of the splendid richness of the bust at every respiration which she drew, or with each successive emotion,—so micht it be said that the half-exposed bosom of Ciprina was ready to swell into completest self-development if the heart within were only excited with the passion which 2+ the moment lay dormant there. And then too, ‘if while contemplating the magnificent Mar- chioness, the eye might behold the flesh firm, elastic, voluptuous to the touch as to the look, like the flesh of those golden-haired and luxurious Bacchanals of Rubens,—so it might seem that with Ciprina all the first freshness of youth was still preserved, and that the young lady of nine. teen, though having already plunged deep in plea. sure and amorous epjoyments, was the same in her unmarred beauty as when only fifteen or six- teen summers had passed over her head. The arms of both were modelled to the finest propor- tions,—those of the Marchioness seeming as if they were sculptured in a white marble with the softest tint of the rose upon it,—those of Ciprina appear- ing as if they had caught the gentlest, faintest, and most distant reflection of a tinge of bistre. Thus, to see these two women together, with some half-dozen years’ difference in their ages, it would be difficult for the most hypercritical voluptuary to decide whether he preferred the elder one in the more gorgeous development of beauty, or the younger one whose charms seemed yet to await & more expanded luxuriance, j But let us resume the thread of our narrative. Ciprina directed the attention of the Marchioness to the beauty of the portrait of Luerezia Borgia in the light which now fell upon it; and they both stopped short in front of that exquisite painting. But as the Marchioness gazed up at it, a shade gradually came over her countenance; and Ci- prina, observing it, said, ‘ Ab, my dear friend ! methinks it is now your turn to appear somewhat mournful !” “IT mournful? Ob, no, Ciprina !’—and a mu- sical peal of merriment rang forth in silver har- mony from Lucrezia di Mirano. “Ah! perhaps,” said Ciprina, “ you were for a moment seiged with a misgiving such as you have on several occasions mentioned I mean lest a - AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. d _—— = you should become in character and in deeds equal to her who is the prototype of your form?’ “ Misgiving? No! no!” said the Marchioness hastily. “Ido not think that I ever had an actual misgiving on the point. But come, Ciprina—let us hasten to the saloons; for I hear the roll of carriages, and our guests are arriving.” The two ladies accordingly repaired to the splen- did suite of apartments, which by this time were thrown open; and shortly afterwards the company began to pour in. It wasa brilliant assemblage that night, Dancing commenced in one room, while the card-tables were set inanother; and in a third there was a conversazione, which was speedily carried on with all that mingled spirit and exqui- site refinement—that blending of the grave and the gay, which was neither too serious on the one hand nor too frivolous on the other—which can alone be found in the saloons of Italian fashion. While some new arrivals were being introduced, amongst the names thus loudly announced from the gilded portals of the principal saloon, was that of the Count of Ramorino. This was the Chief of the Police—a dignitary exercising high Ministerial functions, and who had long been one of the most constant frequenters of the entertainments given by the Marchioness. He was a fine tall man, in his fortieth year—with dark hair and eyes—and with features which in their profile were hand- some, but their expression was somewhat sinister, as if they had derived their air from the special nature of his avocations. It had been rumoured that he was a great admirer of the Marchioness — that he had sought her favours, and had even gone so far as to offer his hand in marriage—but that he had failed to please her ladyship to a degreo sufficient to win the former, while in respect to the latter she was by no means likely to exchange the freedom of an independent widow for the shackles of matrimony. Nevertheless, to whatsoever ex- tent the hopes of the Count of Ramorino had been already disappointed, very certain was it that the Marchioness now advanced to receive him with marked distinction and courtesy. “You are welcome, my lord,” she said with one of her sweetest smiles,—‘‘ most welcome!” she added, in a lower tone but with a more pointed emphasis. The Count bowed, and raised to his lips the fair hand that was proffered him. “Your ladyship is ever charming,” he said; “but you look more than usually lovely this evening. I would that our superlative expres- sions admitted the superlative degree for them- selves, eo that I might find adequate language wherein to express the rapture with which your presence inspires me.” The Marchioness again smiled, as she said, “Ever complimentary, my lord! But those who are always flattering, cannot expect their florid language to be received as earnest.” “And yet I swear to your ladyship,” he said, “that Iam ost earnest when addressing myself in such a strain to you. Ah! that you would afford me sume opportunity of proving the devotion L experience for you, beautiful Lucrezia!” “Indeed, my lord!” she ejaculated, with anotner smile. “But, by the byo,’ she immediacely added, as if a reminiscence had just strucsa her, “methinks that a day or two ago [ did venture Eelooolk 5}