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Updated: June 16, 2025
At this time the profanation of the word "love" rose to its height; the muse of science condescended to seek admission at the saloons of fashion and frivolity, rouged like a harlot and with the harlot's wanton leer.
The princess dared not absent herself; she appeared nightly in costly toilet, with glowing cheeks, and her lovely hair adorned with flowers, but her cheeks were rouged, and her sad smile accorded but little with her flowers. The king had carried on diligently but secretly his preparations for war, under the shadow of these luxurious festivities.
Men did not consider beauty in Ascalon, this Tophet at trail's end, save it might be the beauty of human flesh, and then it must be rouged and powdered, and enforced with every cosmetic mixture to win attention in an atmosphere where life was lived in a ferment of ugly strife.
Large warehouses stood round the harbor of this Greek colony, and slightly-built dwelling-houses, into which the idle mariners were lured by the sounds of music and laughter, and the glances and voices of painted and rouged damsels.
In the train of these tripped troops of children, daughters of the nobility, dressed and decorated with fantastic splendor. Then the maids of honor, personal attendants, and concubines of the king, chastely dressed, though crowned with gold, and decorated with massive gold chains and rings of great price and beauty. A crowd of Siamese women, painted and rouged, in European costume.
Madelon turned round quickly: behind her stood a woman with rouged cheeks, a low evening dress half concealed by a black lace shawl, beads and bracelets on her neck and arms a common figure enough there were half-a-dozen more such in the room and she took no more notice of Madelon, but went on pricking her card without speaking to her again.
Blown from a rotted flute Mingle with noise of cymbals rouged with rust, Nor not strange forms and epicene Lie bleeding in the dust, Being wounded with wounds. For this it is That in thy counterpart Of age-long mockeries THOU HAST NOT BEEN NOR ART! There seemed to me a certain inconsistency as between the first and last lines of this. I tried, with bent brows, to resolve the discord.
"Everybody knows Lady Anastasia's pleasant way of drawing off when she has won and the luck's beginning to turn against her." "I despise your insinuations madam," loftily replied Lady Anastasia, her face where it was not rouged turning the colour of putty.
Persis had laid aside her hat, and the rush of air ruffled her abundant hair and rouged her cheeks. As a matter of fact, Persis was not so near flying as she thought. In the most conservative community, there would have been little danger of her arrest for exceeding the speed limit.
But in the midst of these innocent attempts to alleviate ennui something else came along beside letters. It was a woman a slim, wiry, alert woman. She clambered down from the stage one day, advanced trippingly to the platform and courtesied low before the two plug hats, her long, draggly plume bobbing against her rouged cheek. The two plug hats arose and were doffed.
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