In this chamber assembled the expected guests.  His Grace and the Bird of Paradise arrived first, with their foreign friends.  Lord Squib and Lord Darrell, Sir Lucius Grafton, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Peacock Piggott followed, but not alone.  There were two ladies who, by courtesy if no other right, bore the titles of Lady Squib and Mrs. Annesley.  There was also a pseudo Lady Aphrodite Grafton.  There was Mrs. Montfort, the famous blonde, of a beauty which was quite ravishing, and dignified as beautiful.  Some said (but really people say such things) that there was a talk (I never believe anything I hear) that had not the Bird of Paradise flown in (these foreigners pick up everything), Mrs. Montfort would have been the Duchess of St. James.  How this may be I know not; certain, however, this superb and stately donna did not openly evince any spleen at her more fortunate rival.  Although she found herself a guest at the Alhambra instead of being the mistress of the palace, probably, like many other ladies, she looked upon this affair of the singing-bird as a freak that must end—­and then perhaps his Grace, who was a charming young man, would return to his senses.  There also was her sister, a long, fair girl, who looked sentimental, but was only silly.  There was a little French actress, like a highly finished miniature; and a Spanish danseuse, tall, dusky, and lithe, glancing like a lynx, and graceful as a jennet.

Having all arrived, they proceeded down a small gallery to the banqueting-room.  The doors were thrown open.  Pardon me if for a moment I do not describe the chamber; but really, the blaze affects my sight.  The room was large and lofty.  It was fitted up as an Eastern tent.  The walls were hung with scarlet cloth tied up with ropes of gold.  Round the room crouched recumbent lions richly gilt, who grasped in their paw a lance, the top of which was a colored lamp.  The ceiling was emblazoned with the Hauteville arms, and was radiant with burnished gold.  A cresset lamp was suspended from the centre of the shield, and not only emitted an equable flow of soft though brilliant light, but also, as the aromatic oil wasted away, distilled an exquisite perfume.

The table blazed with golden plate, for the Bird of Paradise loved splendor.  At the end of the room, under a canopy and upon a throne, the shield and vases lately executed for his Grace now appeared.  Everything was gorgeous, costly, and imposing; but there was no pretense, save in the original outline, at maintaining the Oriental character.  The furniture was French; and opposite the throne Canova’s Hebe, by Bertolini, bounded with a golden cup from a pedestal of ormolu.