{"Book of Beauty" = "Heath's Book of Beauty" an annual volume with engravings of famous British women, sponsored by Charles Heath (1785-1848) (London: Longmans, 1833-1847)}
Elinor bowed. "Yes, I have seen the book."
"I have the 'Children of the Nobility,' too, bound in crimson silk; it is a very fascinating collection. My friend, Mrs. Bagman, tells me they are excellent likenesses, particularly the children of his Royal Highness, the Lord-Mayor."
{"Children of the Nobility" = "Portraits of the Children of the Nobility," A similar publication, also sponsored by Charles Heath (Longmans: London, 1838)}
Absurd as such a mistake in heraldry may seem, one might vouch for having heard others quite as extraordinary.
"They may be like," said Elinor, smiling in spite of herself; "but I cannot agree with you as to their beauty. I have seen the volume, and it struck me the artists must have made caricatures of many of the children, who, no doubt, were pretty in reality."
"I was looking at those engravings only yesterday," said Mr. Ellsworth, anxious to engage Elinor's attention; "they almost amount to a libel on childhood; they give the idea of mincing, affected little creatures, at the very age when children are almost invariably natural and interesting. I should quarrel very much with a portrait of my little girl, in the same fashion."
"But it is very seldom you see portraits of children, that are really child-like," observed Elinor. "And then what a trial, to paint a pretty, innocent little creature, in full dress, starched and trim!"
"Children are charming subjects when properly treated; I delight in such pictures," said Mary Van Alstyne.
"You would have been often delighted then, in Italy, Miss Van Alstyne. Raphael's cherubs are as perfect in their way, as his men and women."
{"Raphael's cherubs" = While living in Florence in 1829, James Fenimore Cooper and his family admired the "Madonna del Baldacchino" (sometimes called "La Madonna del Trono") by Raphael (Italian painter, 1483-1520), at the Pitti Palace, and especially the two singing angels ("perhaps I should call them cherubs) at the foot of the throne. He commissioned the American sculptor Horatio Greenough (1805-1852) to sculpt for him a group called "The Chanting Cherubs," based the angels or cherubs}
Mrs. Hilson, unwilling to be thrown out of the conversation, again addressed Elinor.
"When you joined us, Miss Wyllys, we were speaking of the fire opposite your hotel. Were you not dreadfully alarmed? I hear you were there; although I did not find you at home when I called."
"We were disturbed, of course; but I can't say that we were personally alarmed. The wind, you may remember, carried everything in the opposite direction."
"Did it? Well, I was too much frightened to notice anything; you know it was in the same block as our boarding-house."
"Yes; you were nearer the danger than we were."
"Oh, I was dreadfully frightened. There was one of our ladies wanted to persuade me to look at Trinity Church, lighted up by the fire; I believe she really thought it a fascinating sight.
Here comes a gentleman who was staying at your hotel, and has not got over his fright yet; it is one of my escorts--I have two, the Baron and this gentleman; but the Baron is not on deck now--let me introduce you; Monsieur Bonnet, Miss Wyllys. I do believe, Monsieur Bonnet, you were as much alarmed as I was."
"Alarm--Ah, Madame, I was ebloui by the fire. In all my life, I never saw real incendie before; though, of course, I saw the Panorama of the incendie de Moscou--I was not in Russie with l'Empereur. At the spectacle we have incendies sometimes; but never in the street. Ah, I did not see that house until the roof fall, when light burst through my volets, and I spring to the window."
{"ebloui" = dazzled; "incendie de Moscou" = the fire which destroyed Moscow in 1812, while it was being occupied by the Emperor Napoleon; "spectacle" = theater; "volets" = shutters (French)}
"I should have thought the noise would have called you out before that."
"Du tout; when I hear cries, and people marching, I think tout bonnement it was an emeute, and I turn round to finish my sleep; I think myself happy not to belong to the Garde Nationale of New York, and not be afraid of the rappel."
{"du tout" = not at all; "tout bonnement" = simply; "emeute" = riot; "rappel" = call to arms (French)}
"What did you think it was?"
"An emeute, sans doute, say I to myself. It was un tintamarre epouvantable."
{"un tintamarre epouvantable" = a frightful uproar (French)}
"Emeute; pray, what is that?"
"Emeute? A little revolution, as we have in Paris constamment."
"Why, my dear sir, our revolutionary war took place more than fifty years ago. Did you expect to find us fighting now?"
"Certainement; I thought the wheel I hear was cannon. But mon ami Eel-SUN tell me next day, there is incendie every night somewhere in New York. Un drole de divertisement, vraiment. It is a great desagrement, of a city otherwise so beautiful, with so many charming ladies."
{"un drole de divertisement, vraiment" = truly, a strange form of entertainment. "desagrement" = unpleasant feature (French)}
"Thank you, sir; you are very polite. I believe, Miss Wyllys, that French gentlemen, no matter what they talk about, always find an opportunity to pay a compliment."
"C'est tout naturel; cela va sans dire; it is only our devoir, Madame, to exprimer to the ladies some of the many agreeable things they inspire."
{"C'est tout naturel..." = it's only natural; it goes without saying; it is only our duty, Madame, to express to the ladies...
