On the left, as Pym
swept at a glance the apartment, he saw the maid Ixza, reclining in a
large chair; she, also, to all appearances, was asleep. Then he saw his
wife. She crouched on the floor at the foot of the lounge, only her
wealth of light golden hair at first visible. Stepping to her side, Pym
saw her, as many times in the ducal gardens he had seen her drop to the
ground in her girlish fashion, to rest. Her arms were intertwined upon
the foot of the lounge, her head resting upon them; and there the tired,
childlike young wife had gone to sleep--forever.
"How beautiful she was in death! The gentle hand that had never touched
the person of another but in helpfulness--how fair, how pallid; the fond
sweet eyes that knew no glance but that of love and kindness--they were
almost hidden by the drooping lids; the tenderest, loveliest face the
sunlight ever kissed, smiled upward at him as he gazed--his heart felt
colder than was this dear form he dropped beside and clasped. But the
lips--the ripe red lips--the rapturous, maidenly lips, the first touch
of which had raised him forever from the coarse earth--the arch lips
that had bewitched him with their own seductive smile, and could not
shape themselves to harsher act than pouting--a fleeting pout, that
captivated ere it vanished--he could not look at them in death--he could
not.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281