Around me were the relics of her pitiful story -- the old , oft-repeated story of a faithless love and a woman 's broken heart -- the gown she had worn , the slippers in which she had danced light-heartedly at her betrothal ball , her fan , her pearls , her gloves -- and it somehow seemed to me as if I were living in those old years myself , as if the love and happiness , the betrayal and pain were part of my own life .