The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 392: what you’re looking at

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

THE TWO NEIGHBOURING HOUSES dot “Come,” said Linda, the German girl, ‘‘ off with the coat and on with the dressing-gown. It makes you look so much as if you felt yourself at home.”’ ‘‘ Have your own way,” said the duke. “ And now to table, you merry romps.” They sat down; the champagne quickly began to circu- late, laughter pealed like silver bells around, the duke felt himself gay, he forget whatsoever cares had been troubling him, he plunged headlong as it were into the vortex of pleasure, in order to drown his recollections. Be it under- stood that the young women were not merely well educated, but accomplished likewise. They had belonged to genteel families, from whose bosom they were beguiled away by the infamous agents of the still more infamous Madame Angelique, and if there were at any time remorseful feelings in their souls, they were compelled to stifle them as well as they could, for they felt that they had entered upon a career whence there was no retrogression. But they were accom- plished, we say; they all had good conversational powers, and the discourse became as sparkling as the wine which gave it zest. After awhile, when the whole party were exhil- arated, they got up and danced, and the duke abandoned himself with a sort of wild frenzy to the hilarious proceed- ing. Were he a youth of eighteen or twenty, he could not have entered more completely into this fun and frolic. At length, when exhausted with waltzing and romping, he threw himself upon a chair, and the champagne glasses were filled again. “Long live such gaiety as ours!’ cried Marchmont, lifting up his glass in one hand, while the other arm en- circled the splendid shape of the gorgeously handsome Lettice. ‘Oh, for ever such gaiety as this,” exclaimed Linda, who had likewise thrown herself upon a seat, and as she held her glass up, she watched the sparkling of the wine ere she conveyed it to her sensuously breathing lips. “That wicked Marchmont has whirled me around so,” cried the Irish girl, “‘ that he has tired me out,’’ and she threw herself upon a footstool. “Moisten your lips with fruit,’ said Armantine, as she sped to the table, and quickly returning with a china basket containing melon, pineapple, oranges, apples, com (@) DOOKS (E(@)