The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 322: what you’re looking at

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

THE BOUDOIR 305 while I think of it, I may as well observe that as I do not feel very well to-night, I shall perhaps take breakfast in bed in the morning. At all events, you need not come to me until I ring.’ “ Very good, my lady,” observed Jessica, as she combed out Venetia’s magnificent auburn hair, which was glossy and smooth as velvet, and shining as dark gold, — so luxuriant that it could be spread like a veil all over her shoulders and her bosom, and so long that it reached far below her waist. ‘““ And you will tell the footman in the morning,” continued Venetia, “in case I should forget to mention it again, that any one who calls at eleven o’clock in the forenoon punctually is to be shown straight up hither, as I expect some one on business of importance.” ‘“ Your ladyship’s commands shall be attended to,” said Jessica. The night toilet progressed; the masses of silken, auburn hair were gathered loosely up with a sort of graceful negli- gence beneath an elegant lace cap, and having laid aside her apparel, Venetia dismissed her attendant for the night. Putting on a muslin wrapper, beautifully worked, and edged with the costlest lace, she threw herself upon the sofa; and as she lay half-reclining there, the dark purple velvet of that sofa formed a background to throw forth her superb form in all its grandest and most voluptuous effects. The gorgeous contours of the bust, left half-exposed in their dazzling whiteness by the loose wrapper, the fine mould- ing of the form and the admirable proportions of the limbs, displayed by the folds of the very muslin which enveloped them, constituted a picture so exquisitely beautiful and yet so sensuously luxurious that a saint must have wor- shipped Venetia as the idol of devotion, and must have sunk into her arms even though it were tasting the forbidden fruit that would entail the loss of Paradise. But what were Venetia’s thoughts as she thus lay half- reclining upon that sofa, in all the voluptuous abandonment of a rich glowing form draped only with the night-gear and the loose muslin wrapper, and in an atmosphere that was warm and perfumed? For the fire of red-hot coals was heaped high up in the grate; and three or four porcelain vases exhaled a delicious fragrance. If anything were calculated to encourage sensations of softly longing wantonness, the ) econniclooks (SO)