The most striking figures
were the French Generals in their horizon blue uniforms and rows of orders
on their hardy chests.
Of jewels there were few. When the German drive in March seemed
irresistible, jewels had been sent to distant estates, or to banks in
Marseilles and Lyons, and there had been no time to retrieve them after the
ambassador sent out his sudden invitations. Alexina smiled as she recalled
Olive de Morsigny's lament over the absence of her tiara. European women of
society take their jewels very seriously, and there was not a Frenchwoman
present who did not possess a tiara, however old-fashioned.
But the cold luminosity of jewels would have been extinguished to-night
under this really terrific down-pour of light. The tall candelabra against
the tapestried or the white and gold walls were relieved of duty; Paris had
had enough of candlelight; the four immense chandeliers of this reception
room, either of which would have illuminated a restaurant, had been rewired
and blazed like suns. Suspended from the ceiling, festooned between the
candelabra and the chandeliers, were clusters and loops of glass tupils and
roses, each concealing an electric bulb. Alexina reflected that the soft
haze of candles might be more artistic and becoming, but was grateful
nevertheless for this rather tasteless fury of light, symptomatic as it
was; and understood the ambassador's revolt against the enforced economies
of a long war, his desire to do honor to his unassuming little sovereign.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351