It was early April, and there was a savage nip in the air, for Winter
shook his fist at the world long after he dared to come out of his lair.
Spring refused to sit in his lap for more than an instant, but leaped
from that affectionate position, ashamed of her intimacy with the hoary
sinner, and the buds swelled slowly and swelled exceeding small.
Other women hurried, but Lena did not feel the cold except when she saw
a set of magnificent Russian sables with a cordial invitation to "Buy
now". Her eyes suddenly filled with tears at her own impotence. Why had
God created her such as she was and then denied her the perquisites of
her desires? It was as though nature should make the heart of a rose and
should leave off all the out-shaken wealth of petals, whose reflected
lights and shadows make the flower's heart lovely.
With the mist clearing from her eyes Lena walked onward to the next big
sheet of glass, and looked through a wealth of Easter hats and bonnets
at the mirror that was meant to manifold their charms. She did not see
the millinery, but there was comfort in the really good glass, not like
her parody at home which cast a pale green tinge over a distorted image.
On Lena nature had really spent herself. The very texture of her skin
made the fingers itch to caress its transparent delicacy that let
through a tender flush. Every curve of her body suggested hidden beauty,
and the way she turned her head on her shoulders left one feeling how
music and painting fall short of expressing the loveliest loveliness.
But, having accomplished a miracle, fate had left it without a meaning
and thrown it on an ash heap. No wonder that it resented its position.
Every man who passed Lena on the street looked at her; some of them
spoke to her; but she was possessed of a self-respect that kept her from
responding to such overtures. She prided herself on her virtue. Certain
it was that the admiration of the other sex never set her vibrating with
delicate emotions, never increased by a single beat the pulses of her
heart, except when it suggested some definite benefit to herself. With
reason, Lena congratulated herself on her firm resistence to the
many-formed temptations that come to beauty housed with poverty.
Now, as she looked in the milliner's glass, she saw her own face,
rose-like and delicate. She saw the great violet eyes, so innocent that
they almost persuaded herself, as they did others, that some creature
more celestial than ordinary humanity wondered from behind them at the
world. She saw the fair soft curls that clung about her forehead, and
the sight of these things gave a momentary peace to her soul. Then she
surveyed the dingy felt hat that rested brutally on the silken wonder of
her hair, and rebellion rose again.