by some rare providence.

Such lavish devotion made me proud to think that the wealth was
all my own which drove you to my gate. But vanity such as this
only checks the flow of free surrender in a woman's love. When I
sit on the queen's throne and claim homage, then the claim only
goes on magnifying itself; it is never satisfied. Can there be
any real happiness for a woman in merely feeling that she has
power over a man? To surrender one's pride in devotion is
woman's only salvation.

It comes back to me today how, in the days of our happiness, the
fires of envy sprung up all around us. That was only natural,
for had I not stepped into my good fortune by a mere chance, and
without deserving it? But providence does not allow a run of
luck to last for ever, unless its debt of honour be fully paid,
day by day, through many a long day, and thus made secure. God
may grant us gifts, but the merit of being able to take and hold
them must be our own. Alas for the boons that slip through
unworthy hands!

My husband's grandmother and mother were both renowned for their
beauty. And my widowed sister-in-law was also of a beauty rarely
to be seen. When, in turn, fate left them desolate, the
grandmother vowed she would not insist on having beauty for her
remaining grandson when he married. Only the auspicious marks
with which I was endowed gained me an entry into this family--
otherwise, I had no claim to be here.

In this house of luxury, but few of its ladies had received their