nder a heterogeneous mass of things. Muslin petticoats, tossed
down haphazard, pieces of lace, a cardboard helmet covered with gilt
paper, open jewel-cases, bows of ribbon; curling-tongs, half hidden in
the ashes; and on every side little pots, paint-brushes, odds and ends of
all kinds. Behind two screens, which ran across the room, I could hear
whisperings, and the buzzing sound peculiar to women dressing themselves.
In one corner Silvani--the illustrious Silvani, still wearing the large
white apron he assumes when powdering his clients--was putting away his
powder-puff and turning down his sleeves with a satisfied air. I stood
petrified. What was going on at my aunt's?

She discovered my astonishment, and without turning round she said in
agitated tones:

"Ah! is it you, Ernest?" Then as if making up her mind, she broke into a
hearty burst of laughter, like all women who have good teeth, and added,
with a slightly superior air, "You see, we are having private
theatricals."

Then turning toward me with her elegant coiffure powdered to excess, I
could see that her face was painted like that of a priestess of
antiquity. That gauze, that atmosphere, redolent with feminine perfumes,
and behind those screens-behind those screens!

"Women in society," I said to myself, looking about me, "must be mad to
amuse themselves in this fashion."

"And what piece are you going to play, aunt, in such an attractive
costume?"

"Good evening, Captain," called out a laughing voice from behind the
screen on the right.

"We were expecting you," came from behind the screen on the left.

"Good evening, ladies; what can I do for you?"

"It is not a play," observed my aunt, modestly drawing together her
sea-weed draperies. "How behind the age you are, to think that any one
plays set-pieces nowadays. It is not a piece, it is a 'tableau vivant',
'The judgment of Paris.' You know 'The Judgment of Paris'? I take the
part of Venus--I did not want to, but they all urged me--give me a
pin--on the mantelpiece--near the bag of bonbons--there to the left, next
to the jewel-case--close by the bottle of gum standing on my prayer-book.
Can't you see? Ah! at last. In short, the knife to my throat to compel me
to play Venus."

Turning to the screen on the right she said: "Pass me the red for the
lips, dear; mine are too pale." To the hairdresser, who is making his way
to the door: "Silvani, go to the gentlemen who are dressing in the
billiard-room