She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne.
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