For she right then had in present
Unto a lady made present
Of a gold brooch, full well wrought;
And certes, it mis-set her nought,
For through her smocke, wrought with silk,
The flesh was seen as white as milke.”
Think over that, ladies, and gentlemen who love them, for a pretty way of being decolletée. Even though the flesh should be a little sunburnt sometimes,—so that it be the Sun of Righteousness, and not Baal, who shines on it—though it darken from the milk-like flesh to the colour of the Madonna of Chartres,—in this world you shall be able to say, I am black, but comely; and, dying, shine as the brightness of the firmament—as the stars for ever and ever. They do not receive their glories,—however one differeth in glory from another,—either by, or on, Exchange.
Lucca. (Assumption of the Virgin.)
‘As the stars, for ever.’ Perhaps we had better not say that,—modern science looking pleasantly forward to the extinction of a good many of them. But it [[212]]will be well to shine like them, if but for a little while.
You probably did not understand why, in a former letter, the Squire’s special duty towards the peasant was said to be “presenting a celestial appearance to him.”