almost alone, in her closet richly furnished with crimson silk hangings, and the portraits of her father and mother. I was struck, not so much with the extraordinary beauty of the latter, though extraordinary it is, as with its extreme sweetness. I never saw such a loveable face. The imperious duchess had the eyes of a dove, and the mouth of a child; and the hair had that soft glossy silkness which I fancy usually belongs to a gentle and sensitive temperament. I could not help alluding to its loveliness.
"Yes," said the young duchess, "my mother's hair was quite remarkable, both for its length and profusion. But will you believe that she cut it all off one day, in order to plague my father, whose especial admiration it was. He had left her displeased about some trifle, and she severed the favourite tresses, and laid them in a conspicuous place on a table in his room. The long curls disappeared, no one knew how, and my father never made the slightest allusion to their loss; but, after his death, they were found in his cabinet, where he kept all that he had most precious. Even
