The beauty of the East rose before her. He told her
of many-coloured webs and of silken carpets, the glittering steel of
armour damascened, and of barbaric, priceless gems. The splendour of the
East blinded her eyes. He spoke of frankincense and myrrh and aloes, of
heavy perfumes of the scent-merchants, and drowsy odours of the Syrian
gardens. The fragrance of the East filled her nostrils. And all these
things were transformed by the power of his words till life itself
seemed offered to her, a life of infinite vivacity, a life of freedom,
a life of supernatural knowledge. It seemed to her that a comparison was
drawn for her attention between the narrow round which awaited her as
Arthur's wife and this fair, full existence. She shuddered to think of
the dull house in Harley Street and the insignificance of its humdrum
duties. But it was possible for her also to enjoy the wonder of the
world. Her soul yearned for a beauty that the commonalty of men did not
know. And what devil suggested, a warp as it were in the woof of Oliver's
speech, that her exquisite loveliness gave her the right to devote
herself to the great art of living? She felt a sudden desire for
perilous adventures.
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