IN A WINTER CITY. 275
about her pillows, and her gorgeous cloth of
gold lying on a couch Uke a queen's robes
abandoned, slept restlessly, yet with a smUe
on her face, some few hours: when she awoke
it was with a smUe, and with that vague sweet
sense of awakening to some great joy, which
is one of the most precious gifts of happiness;
dreamful misty sense of expectation and recol¬
lections blending in one, and making the Ught
of day beautiful.
She lay stiU some time, awake, and yet
dreaming, with half-closed eyeUds and her thick
hafr loosened and covering her shoulders, and
the sweet scent close at hand of a glassful of
mjTtle and calycanthus, that she had been very
careful to teU them to set near her bed. LazUy,
after awhUe, she rang a little bell, and bade her
maids open her shutters, the grand Ught of the
noonday poured into the chamber.
" Give me a mfrror," she said to them.
When they gave her one, she looked at herself
and smUed again: she was one of those women
who are lovely when they Wake: there are not