favorites. Filled as the air is with these rich fragrances, she adds to them that of pastiles, burning on the chimney-piece, and her hand-kerchief is wet with extracts of violets. Her skin is white, but not transparent; it reminds you most of cream-laid note paper. The eyes are lazy, full, and the color of the double English violets. The hair is blond, an ashy blond, and has scarcely a wave in it; it could not be made to curl, but lies in rich, heavy, almost damp bands, about the face. Her form, though delicate, is thoroughly developed; the flesh firm, the outlines as if chiseled, growing thin now, except the throat and bust, and the hands and feet, which are very small, but rounded and plump, with dimples at the joints. She wears a pale blue silk robe de chambre, opening in front to show an under-dress of white watered silk. On the table beside her is a bottle and glass of heavy, rich Portugal wine, pure juice, which leaves a spoonful of sediment in every glass.
Except to taste this, or to inhale the odors, as the light air throws them occasionally through the window, or to respire the violet from the handkerchief, she seldom raises her head from where it reclines, thrown back upon the cushions, in which position she looks passionately and dreamily at her husband's portrait, which hangs upon the wall before her.
The portrait exhibits a man of twenty-six or seven, somewhat sallow, thin, with heavy, wavy, chestnut hair, and large brown eyes, not without some fierceness in them. There is nothing remarkable about the face except the intense redness of the lips—the lady has that also—so red that you fancy the painter a bad chooser of colors; yet they say the likeness is perfect. These are all the accessories which need be mentioned. Let the lady tell her own story:
My father died before my birth; my mother perished in bringing me, her only child, into the world. They left me a large fortune, and my guardians were well-bred, very ordinary, every-day, well-to-do people.
The first thing I ever loved, except strong perfumes and flowers, was a bird, an English bulfinch, which seemed to be very fond of
