I luxuriate in it, I
joy in it, I feel it in every fibre of my being. I am as happy as a queen.
I am a queen--or She is.
I am but slightly taller. My form is more rounded and of better mould, but
I am still slender. My face is the same face but--how can I express it? A
Venus with the--the expression of a Western schoolgirl pursuing special
studies in New York, looks at me with Her eyes. They are the eyes of Helen
Winship, but larger and fuller orbed and more lustrous, with an appeal
that makes me fall in love with myself, as I look. The nose is longer and
straighter, the cheeks fuller and fairer, the chin daintier, the neck--ah,
well, why shouldn't I be frank? I am beautiful!
And the complexion--still so strange I do not say "my complexion"--clear,
fair, rosy all in one, with the fineness and purity of a baby's; it is the
most indescribable of all the marvels that glow in my glass. Before, I had
the rather sallow, powder-excusing skin of so many Western girls. Now it
is perfect. I love to gaze by the hour at my own beauty. I should be
renamed Narcissa.
My voice, too, is glorious. I have to school myself not to start at the
sound of it when I speak.
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