Alarmed by her mother's tone of indifference, Hortense looked up, saw
the expression of a sorrow before which her own paled, and rose to
kiss her mother, saying:
"What is the matter, mamma? What is happening? Can we be more wretched
than we are already?"
"My child, it seems to me that in what I am going through to-day my
past dreadful sorrows are as nothing. When shall I have ceased to
suffer?"
"In heaven, mother," said Hortense solemnly.
"Come, my angel, help me to dress.--No, no; I will not have you help
me in this! Send me Louise."
Adeline, in her room, went to study herself in the glass. She looked
at herself closely and sadly, wondering to herself:
"Am I still handsome? Can I still be desirable? Am I not wrinkled?"
She lifted up her fine golden hair, uncovering her temples; they were
as fresh as a girl's. She went further; she uncovered her shoulders,
and was satisfied; nay, she had a little feeling of pride. The beauty
of really handsome shoulders is one of the last charms a woman loses,
especially if she has lived chastely.
Adeline chose her dress carefully, but the pious and blameless woman
is decent to the end, in spite of her little coquettish graces. Of
what use were brand-new gray silk stockings and high heeled satin
shoes when she was absolutely ignorant of the art of displaying a
pretty foot at a critical moment, by obtruding it an inch or two
beyond a half-lifted skirt, opening horizons to desire? She put on,
indeed, her prettiest flowered muslin dress, with a low body and short
sleeves; but horrified at so much bareness, she covered her fine arms
with clear gauze sleeves and hid her shoulders under an embroidered
cape.
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