It has been said very prettily of the spruce-tree, that it keeps the
secret of its greenness well; so well that we hardly know when it
sheds its leaves. There are women who resemble the spruce in their
perennial youth, and the vigilance with which they guard the secret
of it. The Baroness was one of these. Only her mirror shared this
secret.
She was an adept at the art of preservation, and greatly as she
disliked physical exertion, she toiled laboriously over her own
person an hour at least every day, and never employed a maid to
assist her. One's rival might buy one's maid, she reasoned, and it
was well to have no confidant in these matters.
She slipped off her dressing-gown and corset and set herself to the
task of pinching and mauling her throat, arms and shoulders, to
remove superfluous flesh, and strengthen muscles and fibres to resist
the flabby tendencies which time produces. Then she used the dumb-
bells vigorously for fifteen minutes, and that was followed by five
minutes of relaxation. Next she lay on the floor flat upon her face,
her arms across her back, and lifted her head and chest twenty-five
times. This exercise was to replace flesh with muscle across the
abdomen. Then she rose to her feet, set her small heels together,
turned her toes out squarely, and, keeping her body upright bent her
knees out in a line with her hips, sinking and rising rapidly fifteen
times.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49