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256 which once suggested the Corinthian capital. The clear blue sky, and the towers of a church in the distance—the sunny foreground—brought the old-accustomed scenes so forcibly to her mind, that for a moment she had forgotten all but themselves.

Madame de Mercœur, though with a kind remembrance of childish habits and haunts, threw around them none of that melancholy which is their poetry, and soon drew her companion's attention to the figure. It was a female in the prime of life, with the colours and rounded form of youth, but with the expression of a more advanced period; it was wonderful how the painter had contrived to give such determination, nay, even severity, to the brow, and yet retain such sweetness in the lower part of the face. But the mouth was that of a child—so small, so fresh, so red, and parted with a smile so glad, so innocent, and extending its influences to the dimpled cheek and little ivory chin. Yet the nose was high and Roman; and the eyes, which looked boldly out, seemed to flash fire. The dress was singular; a green velvet boddice, which fitted tight, and was met at the throat by a chain, or rather collar of gold. A crimson scarf was round the waist, in which was placed a poniard, whose sheath and handle glittered with gems. The large