Julia’s apartment at that season was in the lower part of the house, immediately beneath the state rooms above, and looking upon the garden, with which it was on a level.  The wide door, which was glazed, alone admitted the morning rays:  yet her eye, accustomed to a certain darkness, was sufficiently acute to perceive exactly what colors were the most becoming—­what shade of the delicate rouge gave the brightest beam to her dark glance, and the most youthful freshness to her cheek.

On the table, before which she sat, was a small and circular mirror of the most polished steel:  round which, in precise order, were ranged the cosmetics and the unguents—­the perfumes and the paints—­the jewels and combs—­the ribands and the gold pins, which were destined to add to the natural attractions of beauty the assistance of art and the capricious allurements of fashion.  Through the dimness of the room glowed brightly the vivid and various colourings of the wall, in all the dazzling frescoes of Pompeian taste.  Before the dressing-table, and under the feet of Julia, was spread a carpet, woven from the looms of the East.  Near at hand, on another table, was a silver basin and ewer; an extinguished lamp, of most exquisite workmanship, in which the artist had represented a Cupid reposing under the spreading branches of a myrtle-tree; and a small roll of papyrus, containing the softest elegies of Tibullus.  Before the door, which communicated with the cubiculum, hung a curtain richly broidered with gold flowers.  Such was the dressing-room of a beauty eighteen centuries ago.

The fair Julia leaned indolently back on her seat, while the ornatrix (i.e. hairdresser) slowly piled, one above the other, a mass of small curls, dexterously weaving the false with the true, and carrying the whole fabric to a height that seemed to place the head rather at the centre than the summit of the human form.

Her tunic, of a deep amber, which well set off her dark hair and somewhat embrowned complexion, swept in ample folds to her feet, which were cased in slippers, fastened round the slender ankle by white thongs; while a profusion of pearls were embroidered in the slipper itself, which was of purple, and turned slightly upward, as do the Turkish slippers at this day.  An old slave, skilled by long experience in all the arcana of the toilet, stood beside the hairdresser, with the broad and studded girdle of her mistress over her arm, and giving, from time to time (mingled with judicious flattery to the lady herself), instructions to the mason of the ascending pile.

’Put that pin rather more to the right—­lower—­stupid one!  Do you not observe how even those beautiful eyebrows are?—­One would think you were dressing Corinna, whose face is all of one side.  Now put in the flowers—­what, fool!—­not that dull pink—­you are not suiting colors to the dim cheek of Chloris:  it must be the brightest flowers that can alone suit the cheek of the young Julia.’