She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top.
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