She lay,
with her dark, queenly head on the soft cushion of crimson velvet in an
attitude that would have charmed a painter. But the duchess was not
wasting the light of her dark eyes over a book. She had closed them, as
a flower closes its leaves in the heat of the sun. As she lay there,
beautiful, languid, graceful, the picture she formed was a marvelous
rich study of color. So thought the duke, who, unheard by her, had
entered the room.
Everything had prospered with his grace. He had always been extremely
wealthy, but his wealth had been increased in a sudden and unexpected
fashion. On one of his estates in the north a vein of coal had been
discovered, which was one of the richest in England. The proceeds of it
added wonderfully to his income, and promised to add still more. No
luxury was wanting; the duchess had all that her heart, even in its
wildest caprices, could desire. The duke loved her with as keen and
passionate a love as ever. He had refused to go out this morning,
because she had not gone; and now he stood watching her with something
like adoration in his face--the beautiful woman, in her flowing
draperies of amber and white.
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