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Updated: May 24, 2025
This entranceway was paved like the street, and down the center flowed a streamlet of pink-stained water. "Come in," said Coupeau, "no one will eat you." Gervaise wanted to wait for him in the street. However, she could not resist going through the porch as far as the concierge's room on the right. And there, on the threshold, she raised her eyes.
It might induce me to save you." "Save me!" The pink-stained fingers toyed daintily with the lustrous pendant at the throat, and her voice was exceeding low and soft; only a tapping on the floor with her silken sandal admonished him to have a care. "There was a Jew, an escaped galley-slave, who killed a man in the Palace of Idernee," she began, slowly. Ben-Hur was startled.
An oblong room divided in the middle crosswise by two fluted pillars of pink-stained marble, light, delicately capped, and very graceful between the pillars a segmental arch between the walls and the pillars square ties; the wall above the pillars elaborately scrolled; three curtains of woollen stuff uniformly Tyrian dyed filling the open places the central curtain drawn to the pillars, and held there by silken ropes richly tasselled the side curtains dropped; a skylight for each division of the room, and under each skylight an ample brazier dispensing a comfortable degree of warmth; floor laid in pink and saffron tiles; chairs with and without arms, some upholstered, all quaintly carved to each chair a rug harmoniously colored; massive tables of carven wood, the tops of burnished copper inlaid with blocks of jasper, mostly red and yellow on the tables murrhine pitchers vase-shaped, with crystal drinking goblets about them; the skylights conical and of clear glass; the walls panelled, a picture in every panel, and the raised margins and the whole space outside done in arabesque of studied involution; doors opposite each other and bare; such was the reception-room in the town-house of the Princess Irene arranged for the winter.
Kenkenes gave the man a smiling nod and bent over the lady's fingers. "Fie!" was her greeting. "Abroad like the rabble, and carrying a burden." She filliped the wallet with a pink-stained finger-nail. "Sit here," she commanded, patting the cushioned edge of the litter. The sculptor declined the invitation with a smile. "I go to try some stone," he explained.
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