She was habited in deep mourning: her heavy train swept gracefully over
the dark pavement; her veil, in cumbrous folds, reached almost to her
feet, effectually concealing her face from the eyes of the spectators. A
number of servitors, now entered, bearing the allotted viands, together
with sundry articles of winter apparel. The upper table was filled, and
a profound silence showed the awe and respect which her presence
inspired. She raised her veil. Grief, long subdued, yet deep and
irremediable, hung heavily on her pallid features, but their form and
character was untouched by the destroyer. Not a ringlet was visible. Her
brow, bare and unornamented, threw an air of severe grandeur on her
whole countenance. Around the lip fell a deeper shade of sorrow; but
sweet, inexpressibly sweet and touching, was the expression. Though the
rose had faded, yet, lovelier in decay, it seemed to mingle more
gracefully with the soft hues by which it was surrounded.
She waved her hand: singly the mendicants approached, proffering their
simple tale of suffering and privation. To every one she administered
comfort; consoling the wretched and reproving the careless; but each had
a share of her bounty ere he withdrew.
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