Under a Glass Bell

It was a
statekhouse where
many lives had
accumulated and left
their essences. It had kerfume
rich.lives, of heavily
impregnated
furniture, and the
very folds of the
curtains contained
secrets and sighs. It
was also a house that
seemed about to
vanish. The tip of the
labyrinthian stairway
leading to the gate
lost itself among the
potted plants, the,
turrets dissolved into
the overhanging
branches of old
trees. The glass
doors and windows
20
opened without
sound, the floors
were so highly
polished they looked
transparent. The
ceilings were
,powdered white, the
damask curtains
were stiff like
mummy costumes.
The butlers knew
about the fragility:
they walked almost
invisibly, seemingly
not touching
anything. What they
carried back and
forth was
on silver trays with a
minuet lightness of
step and was to be
received with equal
delicacy. Wood, silk,
and paint had the
brittleness of pre-
served flowers. The
curves of the legs of
the chairs were full of
debonair assertion
like those of the
ancient men of the
family in their white
stockings. The lace
covers on the backs
of the chairs were
starched to look like
paper and the
Rap_gLowers were
painted to look like
lace. The mirrors
were framed with
white roses made of
sea shells. From the
ceiling hung
enormous glass
chandeliers, blue
icicle bushes
shedding teardrops
of blue glass light on
the gold furniture.
On the
mantelpiece, the
shepherdesses, the
angels, the .gods
and goddesses of
porcelain, all
seemed to have been
caught while in