Bracelets, chains, and rings shone about her in the wonted profusion.

Above the flat coils of her hair lay a little bunch of grapes between two vine leaves, wrought in gold, and at her waist hung a dagger, the silver sheath chased with forms of animals.

Standing behind her the little Anglian slave Laetus gently fanned her with a peacock's tail, or sprinkled her with perfume from a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean odours.
'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance at Vivian.

'He has lived at Constantinople lately--not thirty or forty years ago.

Tell us, sweet lord'-- she bent towards him with large, rolling eyes--'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens when Thomas the Blue was overturned and killed ?' 'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had scarce heard the question.
'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady.