But the next moment she was perfectly happy again, and yet was
displeased with herself for it, as if it were not quite right.
Nella stood still at last, close to her, and spoke to her so directly
that she could not help hearing.
"My little lady," said the woman, "do not forget that the women are
coming early to-morrow morning to show you the stuffs which your father
has chosen for your wedding gown."
"Yes. I remember."
Marietta laid down her work in the little basket of beads and looked
away towards the window. Between the shutters she could just see one of
the scarlet flowers of the sweet geranium, waving in the sunlight. It
was true. The women were coming in the morning to begin the work. They
would measure her, and cut out patterns in buckram and fit them on her,
making her stand a long time. They would spread out silks and satins on
the bed and on the table, they would hold them up and make long
draperies with them, and make the light flash in the deep folds, and
they would tell her how beautiful she would be as a bride, and that her
skin was whiter than lilies and milk and snow, and her hair finer than
silk and richer than ropes of spun red gold. While they were saying
those things she would look very grave and indifferent, and nothing they
could show her would make her open her eyes wide; but her heart would
laugh long and sweetly, for she should be infinitely happy, though no
one would know it.
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