His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. You are the woman I love, Anna. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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