The walls glowed with the choicest specimens of the Italian pencil, and
the soft tones and harmonious colouring were well adapted to the subjects,
which were the same in all--voluptuous and sensual love.

Here Venus rose from the crisp-smiling waves, in a rich atmosphere of
light and beauty--there Leda toyed with the wreathed neck and ruffled
plumage of the enamoured swan--in this compartment, Danae lay warm and
languid, impotent to resist the blended power of the God's passion and his
gold--in that, Ariadne clung delighted to the bosom of the rosy wine-God.

The very atmosphere of the apartment was redolent of the richest perfumes,
which streamed from four censers of chased gold placed on a tall
candelabra of wrought bronze in the corners of the room. A bowl of stained
glass on the table was filled with musk roses, the latest of the year; and
several hyacinths in full bloom added their almost overpowering scent to
the aromatic odours of the burning incense.

Armed chairs, with downy pillows, covered with choice embroidered cloths
of Calabria, soft ottomans and easy couches, tables loaded with implements
of female luxury, musical instruments, drawings, and splendidly
illuminated rolls of the amatory bards and poetesses of the Egean islands,
completed the picture of the boudoir of the Roman beauty.

And on a couch piled with the Tyrian cushions, which yielded to the soft
impress of her lovely form, well worthy of the splendid luxury with which
she was surrounded, lay the unrivalled Fulvia, awaiting her expected
lover.

If she was lovely in her rich attire, as she appeared at the board of
Catiline, with jewels in her bosom, and her bright ringlets of luxuriant
gold braided in fair array, far lovelier was she now, as she lay there
reclined, with those bright ringlets all dishevelled, and falling in a
flood of wavy silken masses, over her snowy shoulders, and palpitating
bosom; with all the undulating outlines of her superb form, unadorned, and
but scantily concealed by a loose robe of snow-white linen.

Her face was slightly flushed with a soft carnation tinge, her blue eyes
gleamed with unusual brightness. And by the fluttering of her bosom, and
the nervous quivering of her slender fingers, as they leaned on a tripod
of Parian marble which stood beside the couch, it was evident that she was
labouring under some violent excitement.

"He comes not," she said. "And it is waxing late. He has again failed me!
and if he