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Nordau, Max Simon, 1849-1923

"The Malady of the Century"

He takes himself so seriously, and combs with his whole
soul. Happy man!"
It was about half-past ten when Pilar entered the red salon, in full
ball dress. Wilhelm was sitting by the fire reading. She came up to
him:
"How do you like me?" she asked.
She had on a salmon-colored broche velvet dress, with ostrich
feather trimmings, and a long train. Shoulders and bust rose as out
of pink foam from the scarf-like folds of some very airy material;
brilliants flashed at her breast and on her arms, the diadem was in
her hair, two solitaires in the delicate little ears, a double row
of pearls round her neck, and an ostrich feather fan, with enameled
gold mounts, in her hand. A superb figure!
"How beautiful!" he said, and stroked her chin fondly. He dared not
touch her cheeks, for fear of disturbing the pearl powder. "But you
look just as regal without the brilliants."
"Flatterer! Would you not like to come, after all? Make haste and
dress."
He only shook his head, smiling.
"But are you not a little bit jealous, when you see me go off by
myself to a ball? I shall talk to the men, and take their arm and
dance with them; the people will look at me and pay me attention--
does it not make any difference to you?"
"No, dear heart, for I hope it will make none to you either.


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