Скорбота сатани

Chapter 24

           Seatedunderoneroofinmoreorlessenforcedsilenceandattention,thevagueandfrivolousthronggrewhushedandpassive—the‘society’smirkpassedoffcertainfacesthatwereastrainedtogrinastheirtonguesweretrainedtolie—thedreadfulgiggleoftheunweddedman-hunterwasnolongerheard—andsoonthemostexaggeratedfashion-plateofawomanforgottorustlehergown.Thepassionatevibrationsofavioloncello,superblyplayedtoadoubleharpaccompaniment,throbbedonthestillnesswithabeseechingdepthofsound—andpeoplelistened,Isaw,almostbreathlessly,entranced,asitwere,againsttheirwills,andstaringasthoughtheywerehypnotized,infrontofthematthegoldcurtainwithitsfamiliarmotto—

           

           "Alltheworld’sastage

           Andallthemenandwomenmerelyplayers."

           

           Beforewehadtimetoapplaudthevioloncellosolohowever,themusicchanged—andthemirthfulvoicesofviolinsandflutesrangoutinawaltzofthegiddiestandsweetesttune.Atthesameinstantasilverybelltinkled,andthecurtainpartednoiselesslyintwain,disclosingthefirsttableau—"Society."Anexquisitefemalefigure,arrayedinevening-dressoftherichestandmostextravagantdesign,stoodbeforeus,herhaircrownedwithdiamonds,andherbosomblazingwiththesamelustrousgems.Herheadwasslightlyraised—herlipswerepartedinalanguidsmile—inonehandsheheldup-liftedaglassoffoamingchampagne—hergold-slipperedfoottrodonanhour-glass.

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