The order of creation was not yet
reversed; the male creature was quite as gorgeous in colour and
ornament as the female, who sat in her brocade, powder and patches,
fan in hand, to receive the homage of his snuff-box.
Sir Amyas went the round, giving and returning greetings, which were
bestowed on him with an ardour sufficient to prove that he was a
general favourite. His mother, exquisitely dressed in a rich rose-
coloured velvet train, over a creamy satin petticoat, both exquisitely
embroidered, sailed up with a cordial greeting to her good cousin, and
wanted to set him down to loo or ombre; but the veteran knew too well
what the play in her house was, and saw, moreover, Lady Aresfield
sitting like a harpy before the green baize field of her spoils.
While he was refusing, Sir Amyas returned to him, saying, "Sir, here
is a gentleman whom I think you must have known in Flanders;" and the
Major found himself shaking hands with an old comrade. Save for his
heavy heart, he would been extremely happy in the ensuing conversation.
In the meantime Lady Belamour, turning towards a stout, clumsy, short
girl, her intensely red cheeks and huge black eyes staring out of her
powder, while the extreme costliness of her crimson satin dress, and
profusion of her rubies were ridiculous on the unformed person of a
creature scarcely fifteen.
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