Not in largeness, colour or brilliancy lay their charm, but in deep,
langourous, concentrated sweetness,--a sweetness so far-reaching
from the orb to the soul that it was easy to sink away into their
depths and dream,--and never wish to wake. Sylvie was looking her
fairest that afternoon,--the weather was chilly, and the close-
fitting black velvet dress with its cape-like collar of rich sables,
well became her figure and delicately fair complexion, and many a
spiteful little whisper concerning her went round among more showy
but less attractive women,--many an involuntary but low murmur of
admiration escaped from the more cautious lips of the men. She was
talking to the Princesse D'Agramont, who with her brilliant dark
beauty could afford to confess ungrudgingly the charm of a woman so
spirituelle as Sylvie, and who, between various careless nods and
smiles to her acquaintance, was detailing to her with much animation
the account of her visit to the Marquis Fontenelle before leaving
Paris.
"He must be very epris!" said the Princesse laughing, "For he froze
into a rigid statue of virtue when I suggested that he should escort
me to Rome! I did not wait to see the effect of my announcement that
YOU were already there!"
Sylvie lowered her eyes, and a faint colour crimsoned her cheeks.
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