The Woman in the Alcove

MP3 Audio CD. The Woman in the Alcove

I. THE WOMAN WITH THE DIAMOND

I was, perhaps, the plainest girl in the room that night. I was also the
happiest--up to one o’clock. Then my whole world crumbled, or, at least,
suffered an eclipse. Why and how, I am about to relate.

I was not made for love. This I had often said to myself; very often of
late. In figure I am too diminutive, in face far too unbeautiful, for me
to cherish expectations of this nature. Indeed, love had never entered
into my plan of life, as was evinced by the nurse’s diploma I had just
gained after three years of hard study and severe training.

I was not made for love. But if I had been; had I been gifted with
height, regularity of feature, or even with that eloquence of expression
which redeems all defects save those which savor of deformity, I knew
well whose eye I should have chosen to please, whose heart I should have
felt proud to win.

This knowledge came with a rush to my heart--(did I say heart? I should
have said understanding, which is something very different)--when, at
the end of the first dance, I looked up from the midst of the bevy
of girls by whom I was surrounded and saw Anson Durand’s fine figure
emerging from that quarter of the hall where our host and hostess stood
to receive their guests. His eye was roaming hither and thither and his
manner was both eager and expectant. Whom was he seeking? Some one
of the many bright and vivacious girls about me, for he turned almost
instantly our way. But which one?