The Daughter of an Empress

Yes, it was indeed a charmed garden, and also had its fairy, who, if she

did not compete with the moonbeams in rocking herself on the tops of the

trees and the edges of the wall, was nevertheless as delicate as an elf,

and who tripped from flower to brook and from brook to hill as lightly

and gracefully as the gazelle. The whole spring, the whole youth of

nature, flashed and beamed from this beautiful maiden-face, so full of

childlike innocence, purity, and peace. No storm had as yet passed over

these smiling features, not the smallest leaf of this rose had been

touched by an ungentle hand; freely and freshly had she blossomed in

luxuriant natural beauty; she had drunk the dews of heaven, but not

the dew of tears, for those deeply-dark beaming eyes had wept only such

tears as where called forth by emotions of joy and happiness.

She sat under a myrtle, whose blossoming branches bent down to her as if

they would entwine that pure and tender brow with a bridal wreath. With

her head thrown back upon these branches, she reposed with an inimitable

grace her reclining form. A white transparent robe, held by a golden

clasp, fell in waves to her feet, which were encased in gold-embroidered

slippers of dark-red leather. A blushing rose was fastened by a diamond

pin in the folds of her dress upon her budding bosom, finely contrasting

with the delicate flush upon her cheeks. A guitar rested upon her full

round arm. She had been singing, this beautiful fairy child, but her

song was now silenced, and she was glancing up to the clouds, following

their movements with her dreamy, thoughtful eyes. A smile hovered about

her fresh, youthful lips--the smile peculiar to innocence and happiness.

She dreamed; precious, ecstatic images passed before her mental eyes;

she dreamed of a distant land in which she had once been, of a distant

house in which she had once dwelt. It was even more beautiful and

splendid than this which she now occupied, but it had lacked this blue

sky and fragrant atmosphere; it lacked these trees and flowers, these

myrtle bushes, and these songs of the nightingale, and upon a few summer

days had followed long, dull winter months with their cold winding-sheet

of snow, with their benumbing masses of ice, and the fantastic flowers

painted on the windows by the frost. And yet, and yet, there had been a

sun which shone into her heart warmer than this bright sun of Italy, and

the thought of which spread a purple glow upon her cheeks. This sun had

shone upon her from the tender glances of a lady whom she had loved as

a tutelar genius, as a divinity, as the bright star of her existence!

Whenever that lady had come to her in the solitary house in which she

then dwelt, then had all appeared to her as in a transfiguration; then

had even her peevish old servant learned to smile and become humble and

friendly; then all was joy and happiness, and whoever saw that beautiful

and brilliant lady, had thought himself blessed, and had fallen down to

adore her.