depending on what was trumps. She saw keenly and far, but not deeper
than the superficial
net-work of the heart, not higher than the ceiling of the
drawing-room. Her enjoyments, therefore,
were limited in their range; her nature, though perfect
in its kind, was small and narrow; and her occupation, though so
interesting to those concerned, was in itself mean and frivolous. This
is always her misfortune, the misfortune of this envied woman. She
lives in a material world, blind and deaf to the influences that
thrill the bosoms of others. No noble thought ever fires her soul, no
generous sympathy ever melts her heart. Her share of that current of
human nature which has welled forth from its fountain in the earthly
paradise is dammed up, and cut off from the general stream that
overflows the world. None of those minute and invisible
ducts connects it with the common waters which make one feel
instinctively, lovingly, yearningly, that he is not alone upon the
earth, but a member of the great human family. And so, having played
her part, she dies, this woman of the world, leaving no sign to tell
that an immortal spirit has passed: nothing above the ground but a
tablet, and below, only a handful of rotting bones and crumbling dust.
MARIE DE LA TOUR.
The basement front of No. 12 Rue St Antoine, a narrow street in Rouen,
leading from the Place de la Pucelle, was opened by Madame de la Tour,
in
the millinery
business,
in 1817, and tastefully arranged, so far
as scant materials permitted the exercise of decorative genius. She
was the widow of a once flourishing _courtier maritime_ (ship-broker),
who, in consequence of some unfortunate speculations, had recently
died in insolvent circumstances.
At about
0 comentarios:
Publicar un comentario