There were glowing paintings upon the walls, rich tapestries in the
windows, embroidered hangings upon the bed. Beside the tables stood
bronze figures holding forth lamps ready trimmed and lighted; fresh
flowers had been placed in their allotted vases, and weighed down the
air with perfume; and in a deep recess stood the bath ready filled, and
scented with carefully plucked rose leaves floating upon the water. But
all this display of magnificent luxury and elaborate taste, if regarded
by her at all, now seemed to affect her with weariness rather than with
pleasure.
Why, as she lay down upon her couch, and prepared to yield herself up to
pleasant slumber, did her thoughts wander back to the time when poverty
instead of luxury had been her lot? Why did those olden memories of the
past so strongly haunt her? They were, perhaps, never entirely absent
from her heart; but now they thronged about her with a force that would
not bear repression. Perhaps it was that the very magnificence and pomp
of power of which she was now the centre, recalled the memory of the
distant past, by virtue of strong contrast alone; perhaps that the
unsatisfied longing and vague foreboding of her soul necessarily
impressed upon her the consciousness that wealth and honor alone cannot
give perfect happiness, and thereby naturally led her thoughts back to
the time when she had found true content in poverty and loneliness.
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