So it had been with him at the early stage; and his heart went swifter, memory fetched a breath.

Memory quivered eyelids, when the thought returned--of his having known eyes as lustrous.
First lights of his world, they had more volume, warmth, mystery--were sweeter.

Still, these in the room were sisters to them.

They quickened throbs; they seemed a throb of the heart made visible.
That was their endowment of light and lustre simply, and the mystical curve of the lids.

For so they could look only because the heart was disengaged from them.