Sometime, I shall tell you that story, too . The old-fashioned bronze chandelier, its candle screened by a small lampshade in a bronze frame, stands on the table now. I switch off the electric light, light the candle, and fleeting shadows run up the walls and over the ceiling. There are long French windows in the backgreound. Insistently, she gazes at a small silver bowl at her feet.
Tiny ships bearing lighted candles sail on the water in the bowl.
How I loved to look at her face on that old lampshade. Her hair down, languidly bowing her head, she was looking at the silver bowl, and at the candles with the tiny ships sailing in the flickering unsteady light of the candles. The most dazzling men of the century were in love with this woman. Marie-Antoinette envied her beauty. And the romantic hetman Ogninsky, the ruling German Prince Limbourg, were at her feet.