| No doubt Woman is sometimes a light, a glance,
an invitation to happiness, sometimes just a word; but above all she is
a general harmony, not only in her bearing and the way in which she moves
and walks, but also in the muslins, the gauzes,
the vast, iridescent clouds of stuff in which she envelops herself,
and which are as it were the attributes and the pedestal of her divinity;
in the metal and the mineral which twist and turn around her arms and
her neck, adding their sparks to the fire of her glance, or gently whispering
at her ears. |