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66 in aught that marks him from his fellows, and little does it seem to matter whether that mark be for good or for evil. There must be some deep-rooted anti-social principle in every man's nature, so dearly does he love aught that separates him from his kind; or is it but one of the many shapes taken by that mental kaleidoscope, vanity, the varying and the glittering, the desire of distinction, sinking into that of notice? Charles's was just an exciting consciousness; and he paced the streets, sometimes roused into disdain of the busy and thoughtless crowd around, but oftener lost in gloomy dreams of that futurity whose depths he was so soon to explore. Suddenly the air was filled with fragrance, which came from a balcony where the heliotrope was growing in great luxuriance. He started at its well-known perfume; he stood by the very door he had sworn never to re-enter—by the dwelling of the cold, the beautiful Laura Herbert. What an atmosphere of luxury was around the house! The balustrades of the balcony were of white, and carved, whose vacant spaces were filled with the rarest exotics; an entablature of antique figures ran below the roof. Could the ancient temple they first adorned have shrined a fairer divinity? He saw the amber silk curtains wave to and fro: the middle window was open; in it stood a pillar of lapis lazuli, which supported an alabaster figure, Canova's Dansatrice. And there she dwelt, who might have given him wealth, love, and life;