Bressant

The intensity of the beautiful woman's reflections at length exhausted

her mind's power of maintaining them: she turned over on her side, and

began to follow with her eye the arabesques worked upon the white

counterpane. It was just the sort of occupation which suited her mood.

The arabesques were pretty and graceful; the counterpane was of

immaculate whiteness; there was just enough of effort in tracing out the

intricacies of the interlacements to give a gentle sensation of

pleasure; and there was the latent consciousness, behind this voluntary

trifling, that it could be exchanged at any moment for the most terribly

real and absorbing excitement.

At length it occurred to her that time was passing, and the hour for tea

must be near at hand. She sat up on the bed, threw off her light sack,

and unbuttoned her boots. Going to the glass, she saw that her hair was

in disorder, and partly fallen down, and that one cheek was stamped with

the creases of the pillow. She pulled off her gloves, and looked

critically at her hands.

"It'll never do to go down this way!" determined she. "I must make

myself decent."

In half an hour more she was finished, and took a parting peep at

herself in the mirror. Cold water and a soft sponge had taken from her

face all traces of travel and emotion. Her dark, crisp hair was arranged

in marvelous convolutions, and from the white tip of each ear, peeping

out beneath, hung an Etruscan gold ear-ring, given her by Aunt Margaret.

Her cheeks were pale, but not colorless; her eyes glowed like a tiger's.

She was dressed in a black demi-toilet, relieved with glimpses of yellow

here and there; an oblong piece cut out in front revealed, through

softened edges of lace, the clear, smooth flesh of the neck and bosom.

The dream of a perfume hovered about her, and touched the air as she

moved. Her wide sleeve fell open, as she raised her arm, disclosing the

white curves, which were remarkably full and firm for one of her age.

She gave a little laugh as she stood there that made the ear-rings

quiver, and parted her lips enough to show that her small white teeth

were set edge to edge.

"It can't do any harm," was passing through her mind. "If I'm to be his

sister, he ought to like me. It's no use making him detest me. If he

loves Sophie so much, what harm can it do for him to be pleased with my

beauty? Besides, haven't I a right to my own good looks?"

She kissed her fingers to her reflection, and made a deep courtesy. As

she did so, she caught sight of the little petal-less rose-stalk which

had fallen out of her traveling-dress on to the floor. She picked it up,

and, after turning it idly in her fingers for a moment, she yielded to a

sudden fancy, and fastened it into the bosom of her dress; so that this

symbol of a body from which the soul had departed formed the central and

crowning ornament of the voluptuous and lovely woman.