Blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim 👌 THE LAW INEVITABLE.

Blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim 👌 THE LAW INEVITABLE.



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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Law Inevitable, by Louis Couperus.

The Marchesa Belloni's boarding-house was situated in one of the healthiest, if not one of the most romantic quarters of Rome.

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One half of the house had formed part of a villino of the old Ludovisi Gardens, those beautiful old gardens regretted by everybody who knew them before the new barrack-quarters were built on the site of the old Roman park, with its border of villas.

The entrance to the pension was in the Via Lombardia. The older or villino portion of the house retained a certain antique charm for the marchesa's boarders, while the new premises built on to it offered the advantages of spacious rooms, modern sanitation and electric light.

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The pension boasted a certain reputation for comfort, cheapness and a pleasant situation: it stood at a few minutes' walk from the Pincio, on high ground, and there was no need to fear malaria; and the price charged for a long stay, amounting to hardly more than eight lire a day, was exceptionally low for Rome, which was known to be more expensive than any other town in Italy.

The boarding-house therefore was generally full. The visitors began to arrive as soon as October: those who came earliest in the season paid least; and, with the exception of a few hurrying tourists, they nearly all remained until Easter, going south-ward to Naples after the great church festivals.

It was her first visit to Italy; it was the first time that she had alighted at the great cavernous station near the Baths of Diocletian; and, standing in the square, in the golden Roman sunlight, while the great fountain of the Acqua Marcia gushed and rippled and the cab-drivers clicked with their whips and their tongues to attract her attention, she was conscious of her "nice Italian sensation," as she called it, and felt glad to be in Rome.

She saw a little old man limping towards her with the instinct of a veteran porter who recognizes his travellers at once; and she read "Hotel Belloni" on his cap and beckoned to him with a smile.

He saluted her with respectful familiarity, as though she were an old acquaintance and he glad to see her; asked if she had had a pleasant journey, if she was not over-tired; led her to the victoria; put in her rug and her handbag; asked for the blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim of her trunks; and said that she had better go on ahead: he would follow in ten minutes with the luggage.

She received an impression of cosiness, of being well cared for by the little old lame man; and she gave him a friendly nod as the coachman drove away.

She felt happy and careless, though she had just the faintest foreboding of something unhappy and unknown that was going to come to her; and she looked to right and left to take in the streets of Rome.

But she saw only houses upon houses, like so many barracks; then a great white palace, the new Palazzo Piombino, which she knew to contain the Juno Ludovisi; and then the vettura stopped and a boy in buttons came out to meet her.

He showed her into the drawing-room, a gloomy apartment, in the middle of which was a table covered with periodicals, arranged in a regular and unbroken circle.

She sat down at the table and took up the Roman Heraldthe paper which appears once a fortnight and tells you what there is to do in Rome during the next two weeks.

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She was a large, fat matron, vulgarly fat; her ample bosom was contained in a silk cuirass or spencer, shiny at the seams and bursting under the arms; her grey frizzled hair gave her a somewhat leonine appearance; her great yellow and blue eyes, with bistre shadows beneath them, wore a strained expression, the pupils unnaturally dilated by belladonna; a pair of immense crystals sparkled in her ears; and her fat, greasy fingers were covered with nameless jewels.

The marchesa led her to the hydraulic lift and stepped in with her; the lift, a railed-in cage, running up the well of the staircase, rose solemnly and suddenly stopped, motionless, between the second and the third floor.

The marchesa screamed out some orders in a shrill voice; two facchini came running up and hung on to the cable of the lift, together with the ostensibly zealous boy in buttons; and by fits and starts the cage rose higher and higher, until at last it almost reached the third storey.

Though the sun was shining brightly out of doors, the room was as damp and chilly as a cellar.

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Yes, that is one of those foreigners' ideas: rooms facing south This is really a beautiful room. The choice of a room sometimes means the choice of a life.

The marchesa caught hold of her hand and smiled. She had abandoned her cool tone and her voice was all honey:. But I have two little kennels left.

And she quickly opened two doors, two snug little cupboards of rooms, displaying through the open casements a lofty and spacious view of the sky, out-spread above the streets and roofs below, with the blue dome of St.

Peter's in the distance.

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Don't let us discuss it any more. The rooms are yours. You are Dutch, are you not?

Maltazard, the Evil M, is now 7 feet tall website once. Blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim I wanted to love it but unfortunately it didn't.

We have a Dutch family staying here: a mother with two daughters and a son. Would you like to sit next to them at table?

She looked out of the window, absent-mindedly, glad to be in Rome, yet faintly conscious of the something unhappy and unknown that was about to come.

There was a tap at her door; the men carried in her luggage.

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She saw that it was eleven o'clock and began to unpack. One of her rooms was a small sitting-room, like a bird-cage in the air, looking out over Rome.

She altered the position of the furniture, draped the faded sofa with a shawl from the Abruzzi and fixed a few portraits and photographs with drawing-pins to the wall, whose white-washed surface was broken up by rudely-painted arabesques.

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And she smiled at the border of purple hearts transfixed with arrows, which surrounded the decorated panels of the wall.

After an hour's work, her sitting-room was settled: she had a home of her own, with a few of her own shawls and rugs, a screen here, a little table there, cushions on the sofa, books within easy reach.

When she had finished and blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim sat down and looked around her, she suddenly felt very lonely.

She began to think of the Hague and of what she had left behind her. But she did not want to think and picked up her Baedeker and read about the Vatican.

She was unable to concentrate her thoughts and turned to Hare's Walks in Rome. A bell sounded. She was tired and her nerves were on edge.

She looked in the glass, saw that her hair was out of curl, her blouse soiled with coal and dust, unlocked a second trunk and changed her things.

She cried and sobbed while she was curling her hair. The second bell rang; and, after powdering her face, she went downstairs.

She expected to be late, but there was no one in the dining-room and she had to wait before she was served.

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She resolved not to come down so very punctually in future. A few boarders looked in through the open door, saw that there was no one sitting at table yet, except a new lady, and disappeared again.

The dining-room was the original dining-room of the old villa, with a ceiling by Guercina. The waiters loitered about.

An old grey major-domo cast a distant glance over the table, to see if everything was in order. But the waiters were very young, hardly more than sixteen to eighteen, and lacked the usual self-possession of the waiter.

And this seemed to be the signal for the others to begin eating, for a number of boarders, mostly ladies, now came in, sat down and helped themselves to the macaroni, which was handed round by the youthful waiters under the watchful eye of the grey-haired major-domo.

He hurriedly mopped up his tornato-sauce with his bread, bent a little way across the table and almost whispered, in French:.

He used to be major-domo in the palace of an Austrian archduke. He did I don't know what. Stole something, perhaps.

Or was impertinent. Or dropped a spoon on the floor.

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He has come down in the world. Now you behold him in the Pension Belloni. But the dignity of the man! The German ladies exclaimed how kind he was, how he was able to do anything, to find a way out of every difficulty.

They had taken endless trouble to bribe the Rospigliosi porter and they had not succeeded.

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You're tired. You look worse every day and you're losing flesh. You must rest, or you sha'n't have the card for the low mass.

The German ladies laughed. Miss Taylor, flattered, in an ecstasy of delight, gave her promise. She looked at the pock-marked gentleman as though she expected to hear the judgement of Solomon fall from his lips.

If so, I'll order a fiasco for you in the Via della Croce.

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She sipped the wine. It was deliciously pure. She reflected that it would be a good thing to drink a pure wine in Rome; and, as she did so, the stout gentleman seemed to read her quick thought:.

It will last you a long time: the wine keeps. So I'll order you a fiasco. She had hired a victoria after lunch and had driven through Rome, to make her first acquaintance with the city for which she had longed so eagerly.

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This first impression was a great disappointment. Her unspoiled imagination, her reading, even the photographs which she had bought in Florence and studied with the affection of an inexperienced tourist had given her the illusion of a city of an ideal antiquity, an ideal Renascence; and she had forgotten that, especially in Rome, life has progressed pitilessly and that the ages are not visible, in buildings and ruins, as distinct periods, but that each period is closely connected with the next by the passing days and years.

Thus she had thought the dome of St. Peter's small, the Corso narrow and Trajan's Column a column like any other; she had not noticed the Forum as she drove past it; and she had been unable to think of a single emperor when she was at the Palatine.

Now she was home again, tired, and was resting a little and meditating; she felt depressed, yet she enjoyed her vague reflections and the silence about her in the big house, to which most of the boarders had not yet returned.

She thought of the Hague, of her big family, her father, mother, brothers and sisters, of whom she had taken leave for a long time to go abroad.

Her father, a retired colonel of hussars living on his pension, with no great private means, had been unable to contribute anything to the fulfilment of her caprice, as he called it; and she would not have been able to satisfy that caprice, of beginning a new life, but for the small legacy which she had inherited some years ago from a godmother.

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She was glad to be more or less independent, though she felt the selfishness of her independence. But what could she have done for her family-circle, after the scandal of her divorce?

She was weak and selfish, she knew it; but she had received a blow under which she had at first expected to succumb.

And, when she found blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim surviving it, she had mustered such energy as she possessed and said to herself that she could not go on existing in that same narrow circle of her sisters and her girl blouse designs for fat ladies to look slim and she had forced her life into a different path.

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She had always had the knack of creating an apparently new frock out of an old dress, transforming a last year's hat into one of the latest fashion.

Even so she had now done with her distraught and wretched life, all battered and broken as it was; she had gathered together, as in a fit of economy, all that was left, all that was still serviceable; and out of those remnants she had made herself a new existence.

But this new life was unable to breathe in the old atmosphere: it felt aimless in it and estranged; and she had managed to force it into a different path, in spite of all the opposition of her family and friends.

Perhaps she would not have succeeded so readily if she had not been so completely shattered. Perhaps she would not have felt this energy if she had suffered only a little.

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She had her strength and she had her weakness; she was very simple and yet she was very variable; and it was perhaps just this complexity that had been the saving of her youth.

Besides, she was actually very young, only twenty-three; and in youth one possesses an unconscious vitality, notwithstanding any apparent weakness.

And her contradictory qualities gave her equilibrium and saved her from falling over into the abyss