in Oriental women, they would lend a complete language of flowers to
the wreaths they wear on their head. To please my own taste as an
artist I have made drooping flowers with leaves of the hue of
Florentine bronze, such as are found before or after the winter. Would
not such a crown on the head of a young woman whose life is a failure
have a certain poetical fitness? How many things a woman might express
by her head-dress! Are there not flowers for drunken Bacchantes,
flowers for gloomy and stern bigots, pensive flowers for women who are
bored? Botany, I believe, may be made to express every sensation and
thought of the soul, even the most subtle.'

"She would employ me to stamp out the leaves, cut up material, and
prepare wires for the stems. My affected desire for occupation made me
soon skilful. We talked as we worked. When I had nothing to do, I read
new books to her, for I had my part to keep up as a man weary of life,
worn out with griefs, gloomy, sceptical, and soured. My person led to
adorable banter as to my purely physical resemblance--with the
exception of his club foot--to Lord Byron. It was tacitly acknowledged
that her own troubles, as to which she kept the most profound silence,
far outweighed mine, though the causes I assigned for my misanthropy
might have satisfied Young or Job.

"I will say nothing of the feelings of shame which tormented me as I
inflicted on my heart, like the beggars in the street, false wounds to
excite the compassion of that enchanting woman. I soon appreciated the
extent of my devotedness by learning to estimate the baseness of a
spy. The expressions of sympathy bestowed on me would have comforted
the greatest grief. This charming creature, weaned from the world, and
for so many years alone, having, besides love, treasures of kindliness
to bestow, offered these to me with childlike effusiveness and such