The men exhibit
in their dresses a greater variety of colour, and in their occupations a
greater fertility of resource, than the women. Their garments, of the
lightest rose, violet, or yellow tints, diversify fantastically the
monotonous white robes of their gentle companions. Of their
employments, the most conspicuous are playing on the lute, gaming with
dice, teasing their lapdogs, and insulting their parasites. Whatever
their occupation, it is performed with little attention, and less
enthusiasm. Some recline on their couches with closed eyes, as if the
heat made the labour of using their organs of vision too much for them;
others, in the midst of a conversation, suddenly leave a sentence
unfinished, apparently incapacitated by lassitude from giving expression
to the simplest ideas. Every sight in the apartment that attracts the
eye, every sound that gains the ear, expresses a luxurious repose. No
brilliant light mars the pervading softness of the atmosphere; no
violent colour materialises the light, ethereal hues of the dresses; no
sudden noises interrupt the fitful and plaintive notes of the lute, jar
with the soft twittering of the birds in the aviaries, or drown the
still, regular melody of the ladies' voices.
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