"I may as well make it a big party, I haven't given one for a long time," he had observed to Hal who, reclining, was spitting in the pool to see the goldfish rise for the bubbles.
"Grand. Will you have a Santa Claus?"
"Certainly nothing so ordinary. I've been considering, and have decided it should have a primitive Biblical aspect. I'll remove the French and Italian furniture."
"You!" hooted Hal. "I'd like to see you move a chair!"
"Don't be impertinent and see that you help for a change instead of lying around like an odalisque. The sofas will remain, and there'll be two from the studio. And there'll be the Moroccan rugs and cushions. The rest of the floor will be strewn with straw to suggest a Manger. No decorative objects except the African sculptures and the two Picassos of that period, though I may have the Matisse 'Odalisque' from the dining room because of the pink. I don't suppose the fruiterer can dig up a watermelon for the ebony platter so Damon will have to get a stage one. But I'm certain I can find a profusion of other fruits—dates, fresh figs, St. John's bread, tangerines, grapes, pomegranates—did you know the pomegranate was that notorious apple? I'll use the copies of the terra cotta bowls—they'd break the real ones—for pistachio nuts, Turkish paste, cigarettes. I'd prefer torches for lighting but I'm afraid some silly woman would be sure to set the place ablaze. Come to think of it, I'll also have the Roman heads, the Venus torso, the column, and the Pompeian fresco placques. They will be quite in keeping as I shall be Caligula."
"Who's he?"
"Really, Hal, you are so illiterate! I cannot understand why you do not acquaint yourself with my library."
"You make me practice all the time."
"Not enough. Caligula was a Roman emperor. Some think he was mad. I disagree. I had thought of a Renaissance fete, k la the Borgia apartments of the Vatican, I've never been Alexander 6th. But when it came to tableaux, the idea of writhing whores was revolting."
The day before the party Lucy and Vida came in response to a call from Figente.
The men who had delivered the treelike palms were leaving and Damon St. John was shifting a saffron-draped couch into a soft amber spotlight. It was Vida's first glimpse of Figente's drawing
