The
room was like an alcove of outdoors, not divorced from the open air
and set in contra-distinction, but made a continuation of its space
and order and ancient repose--a kind of exquisite porch of light.
Across this porch of light Rollo stepped, bearing a covered dish.
The little breakfast-table and the laden side-table were set with
vessels of rock-crystal and drinking-cups of silver gilt, and
breakfast consisted of delicately-prepared sea-food, a pulpy fruit,
thin wine and a paste of delicious powdered gums. These things Rollo
served quite as if he were managing oatmeal and eggs and china. One
would have said that he had been brought up between the covers of an
ancient history, nothing in consequence being so old or so new as to
amaze him. Upon their late arrival the evening before he had
instantly moved about his duties in all the quiet decorum with which
he officiated in three rooms and a bath, emptying the oil-skins,
disposing of their contents in great cedar chests, and, from
certain rich and alien garments laid out for the guests, pretending
as unconcernedly to fleck lint as if they had been broadcloth from
Fifth Avenue.
Pages:
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192