"She must be very rich," you say--as she passes on. "She is
prodigiously rich," replies the friend, to whom you put the
question--for seven virgins, with nosegays of choicest flowers, held up
her bridal train; and the like number of youths, with silver-hilted
swords, and robes of ermine and satin, graced the same bridal ceremony.
Her father thinks he can never do enough for her; and her husband, that
he can never love her sufficiently.
Whether she be happy or not, in consequence, we have no time to stop to
inquire, for see yonder! Three "turbaned Turks" make their advances. How
gaily, how magnificently they are attired! What finely proportioned
limbs--what beautifully formed features! They have been carousing,
peradventure, with some young Greeks--who have just saluted them, en
passant--at the famous coffee-house before mentioned. Everything around
you is novel and striking; while the verdure of the trees and lawns is
yet fresh, and the sun does not seem yet disposed to sink below the
horizon. The carriages still move on, and return, in measured
procession. Those who are within, look earnestly from the windows, to
catch a glance of their passing friends. The fair hand is waved here;
the curiously-painted fan is shaken there; and the repeated nod is seen
in almost every other passing landaulet.
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