Eothen By A. W. Kingslake

































 - 

Her ladyship, in the right spirit of hospitality, now sent and
commanded me to repose for a while after the - Page 46
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Her Ladyship, In The Right Spirit Of Hospitality, Now Sent And Commanded Me To Repose For A While After The Fatigues Of My Journey, And To Dine.

The cuisine was of the Oriental kind, which is highly artificial, and I thought it very good.

I rejoiced too in the wine of the Lebanon.

Soon after the ending of the dinner the doctor arrived with miladi's compliments, and an intimation that she would he happy to receive me if I were so disposed. It had now grown dark, and the rain was falling heavily, so that I got rather wet in following my guide through the open courts that I had to pass in order to reach the presence chamber. At last I was ushered into a small apartment, which was protected from the draughts of air passing through the doorway by a folding screen; passing this, I came alongside of a common European sofa, where sat the lady prophetess. She rose from her seat very formally, spoke to me a few words of welcome, pointed to a chair which was placed exactly opposite to her sofa at a couple of yards' distance, and remained standing up to the full of her majestic height, perfectly still and motionless, until I had taken my appointed place; she then resumed her seat, not packing herself up according to the mode of the Orientals, but allowing her feet to rest on the floor or the footstool; at the moment of seating herself she covered her lap with a mass of loose white drapery which she held in her hand. It occurred to me at the time that she did this in order to avoid the awkwardness of sitting in manifest trousers under the eye of an European, but I can hardly fancy now that with her wilful nature she would have brooked such a compromise as this.

The woman before me had exactly the person of a prophetess - not, indeed, of the divine sibyl imagined by Domenichino, so sweetly distracted betwixt love and mystery, but of a good business-like, practical prophetess, long used to the exercise of her sacred calling. I have been told by those who knew Lady Hester Stanhope in her youth, that any notion of a resemblance betwixt her and the great Chatham must have been fanciful; but at the time of my seeing her, the large commanding features of the gaunt woman, then sixty years old or more, certainly reminded me of the statesman that lay dying {15} in the House of Lords, according to Copley's picture. Her face was of the most astonishing whiteness; {16} she wore a very large turban, which seemed to be of pale cashmere shawls, so disposed as to conceal the hair; her dress, from the chin down to the point at which it was concealed by the drapery which she held over her lap, was a mass of white linen loosely folding - an ecclesiastical sort of affair, more like a surplice than any of those blessed creations which our souls love under the names of "dress" and "frock" and "boddice" and "collar" and "habit-shirt" and sweet "chemisette."

Such was the outward seeming of the personage that sat before me, and indeed she was almost bound by the fame of her actual achievements, as well as by her sublime pretensions, to look a little differently from the rest of womankind.

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