the centre.

Mr. Jorrocks having finished his pie-crust, and stuck on his mustachios,
the Countess blew out her bougies, and the trio, preceeded by Agamemnon
with a lanthorn in his hand, descended the stairs, whose greasy, muddy
steps contrasted strangely with the rich delicacy of the Countess's
beautifully slippered feet. Having handed them into the voiture,
Agamemnon mounted up behind, and in less than ten minutes they rumbled
into the spacious courtyard of the Countess de Jackson, in the Rue des
Bons-Enfants, and drew up beneath a lofty arch at the foot of a long
flight of dirty black-and-white marble stairs, about the centre of which
was stationed a _lacquey de place_ to show the company up to the hall.
The Countess de Jackson (the wife of an English horse-dealer) lived
in an _entresol au troisieme_, but the hotel being of considerable
dimensions, her apartment was much more spacious than the Countess
Benvolio's. Indeed, the Countess de Jackson, being a _marchande des
modes_, had occasion for greater accommodation, and she had five low
rooms, whereof the centre one was circular, from which four others,
consisting of an ante-room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and _salle a manger_,
radiated.

Agamemnon having opened the door of the _fiacre_, the Countess Benvolio
took the Yorkshireman's arm, and at once preceded to make the ascent,
leaving the Colonel to settle the fare, observing as they mounted the
stairs, that he was "von exceeding excellent man, but vare slow."

"Madame la Contesse Benvolio and Monsieur Stoops!" cried the _lacquey de
place_ as they reached the door of the low ante-room, where the Countess
Benvolio deposited her shawl, and took a final look at herself in the
glass. She again took the Yorkshireman's arm and entered the round
ballroom, which, though low and out of all proportion, had an
exceedingly gay appearance, from the judicious arrangement of the
numerous lights, reflected in costly mirrors, and the simple elegance of
the crimson drapery, festooned with flowers and evergreens against the
gilded walls. Indeed, the hotel had been the residence of an ambassador
before the first revolution, and this _entresol_ had formed the private
apartment of his Excellency. The door immediately opposite the one by
which they entered, led into the Countess de Jackson's bedroom,
which was also lighted up, with the best furniture exposed and her
toilette-table set out with numberless scent bottles, vases, trinkets,
an