and was dazzling through every moment of its passing. She showed her the
splendours she was to shine in at the birth-night ball, even bringing
forth her jewels and displaying them. She told her stories of the house
of which the young heir to-day attained his majority, and mocked at the
poor youth because he was ungainly, and at a distance had been her slave
since his nineteenth year.

"I have scarce looked at him," she said. "He is a lout, with great eyes
staring, and a red nose. It does not need that one should look at men to
win them. They look at us, and that is enough."

To poor Mistress Anne, who had seen no company and listened to no wits,
the entertainment bestowed upon her was as wonderful as a night at the
playhouse would have been. To watch the vivid changing face; to hearken
to jesting stories of men and women who seemed like the heroes and
heroines of her romances; to hear love itself--the love she trembled and
palpitated at the mere thought of--spoken of openly as an experience
which fell to all; to hear it mocked at with dainty or biting quips; to
learn that women of all ages played with, enjoyed, or lost themselves for
it--it was with her as if a nun had been withdrawn from her cloister and
plunged into the vortex of the world.

"Sister," she said, looking at the Beauty with humble, adoring eyes, "you
make me feel that my romances are true. You tell such things. It is
like seeing pictures of things to hear you talk. No wonder that all
listen to you, for indeed 'tis wonderful the way you have with words. You
use them so that 'tis as though they had shapes of their own and colours,
and you builded with them. I thank you for being so gracious to me, who
have seen so little, and cannot tell the poor, quiet things I have seen."