Secret Things at Hauterive

The first thing the old lady did was to go to an oak chest which was
in the room, and rummage there. With many grunts and wheezes (for she
was eaten with rheumatism) she drew out a bundle done up in an old
shawl. This she opened upon the floor.

"I belonged to a great lady once," said she, "though I don't look like
it, my dear. These fal-lals have been over as dainty a body as your
own in their day; and that was fifteen years ago to a tick. She gave
'em all to me when she took to the black, and now they shall go to my
son's wife. Think of that, you who come from who knows who or where.
If they fit you not like a glove, let me eat 'em."

There were silks and damasks and brocades; webbed tissues of the East,
Coän gauzes blue and green, Damascus purples, shot gold from
Samarcand, crimson stuffs dipped in Syrian vats, rose-coloured silk
from Trebizond, and embroidered jackets which smelt of Cairo or
Bagdad, and glowed with the hues of Byzantium itself. Out of these she
made choice. The girl shed her rags, and stood up at last in a gown of
thin red silk, which from throat to ankle clung close about her shape.
The dark beauty went imperially robed.

"Wait a bit," said her dresser; "we'll look at you presently when you
are shod and coifed to fit."

She gave her a pair of red stockings and Moorish slippers for her
feet; she massed up her black hair into a tower upon her head, and
roped it about with a chain of sequins which had served their last
chaffer at Venice; she girt a belt of filigree gold and turquoise
about her waist, gave her a finishing pat, and stood out to spy at
her.