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each other, while they worked her up to madness.
At length she rose, more composed, not less miserable. She stood before a
large mirror--she gazed on her reflected image; her light and graceful
dress, the jewels that studded her hair, and encircled her beauteous arms
and neck, her small feet shod in satin, her profuse and glossy tresses, all
were to her clouded brow and woe-begone countenance like a gorgeous frame
to a dark tempest-pourtraying picture. "Vase am I," she thought, "vase
brimful of despair's direst essence. Farewell, Perdita! farewell, poor
girl! never again will you see yourself thus; luxury and wealth are no
longer yours; in the excess of your poverty you may envy the homeless
beggar; most truly am I without a home! I live on a barren desart, which,
wide and interminable, brings forth neither fruit or flower; in the midst
is a solitary rock, to which thou, Perdita, art chained, and thou seest the
dreary level stretch far away."
She threw open her window, which looked on the palace-garden. Light and
darkness were struggling together, and the orient was streaked by roseate
and golden rays. One star only trembled in the depth of the kindling
atmosphere. The morning air blowing freshly over the dewy plants, rushed
into the heated room. "All things go on," thought Perdita, "all things
proceed, decay, and perish! When noontide has passed, and the weary day has
driven her team to their western stalls, the fires of heaven rise from the
East, moving in their accustomed path, they ascend and descend the skiey
hill. When their course is fulfilled, the dial begins to cast westward an
uncertain shadow; the eye-lids of day are opened, and birds and flowers,
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