An evil spirit put gimlets
into my head, but I shook them out like so much powder, and resolved to
be honorable, if I was an artist. I found, however, that my curiosity
was an abominable nuisance, that my morning walks were almost entirely
neglected, and that I could not bear to leave my room until I had heard
her go out and lock her door behind her. Every day, after her departure,
I resolved that she should not go out again without being seen by me,
and every time I attempted to follow her in such a way as to escape
detection I lost sight of her. I nearly fell into the street as I
attempted to reach far enough out of my window to see her as she came
out at the street-door.
At last, one morning, when it happened, that, just as I had finished
dressing myself and was ready to go out, she opened her door and ran
down stairs without closing it behind her, carried away by my curiosity,
I stepped out into the narrow passage-way and looked into her sanctuary.
The room was a smaller one than mine,--but how much neater! The muslin
curtains in her window were as white as snow; her wardrobe, which hung
against the wall, was protected from the dust by a linen cloth; the
floor shone like a mirror.
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