The gimcracks were set out on a jutting surface and the woman listened to the indoor crowd that made the sound of a storm in a dry forest.
Upon entering the mansion—referred to as “the castle” by the locals at that time—she saw the carvings in wood and in stone—and among them a white wolf with an open mouth, made from white limestone.
There was a broad blown cry from the woman that expressed her satisfaction.
By contrast, a man and a boy found the air inside difficult to breathe and they did not view the staircase or the urns in the niches as among the finest in the world. Nor had they walked in there with the notion that this will do.
But other people arrived who could be benefited by observing the luxury—so that the big place didn’t rub them the wrong way.
The woman eyed swords and sabers hung on the wall, all exceptional. Next to these was an oil painting in a bulky frame featuring a copper pot and eucalyptus leaves.
The woman stayed briefly in a location close by it.
The true state of things inside of the painting was unclear. The painting needed cleaning. The woman could not sufficiently experience either the fragrance of the leaves or the copper pot’s heavenly glow.
“Oh, sorry!” the man with his boy said to the woman.
Something had startled him also. He was a thin little man who held his face in his hands. “I don’t like this place do you?” he said.
He didn’t approach too closely. But the woman reached out and laid a hand on his arm and she gripped it.
Then both of her hands were pulling at his sleeve.
People who saw her putting a lot of effort into it wondered why.
She was carefully fashioned, vivid and polished, but should her desired result fail to be obtained—she’ll fade.