On the walls were hung some pieces of tapestry, where there were not bookcases.
The posters, maculated with filth, garnished like tapestry the sweep of the curbstone.
There had been just room, and no more, for Clara to stand between the tapestry and the books.
In a costume other than evening clothes, he might have walked out of a tapestry.
After a drawing, now in the Louvre, ...