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following evening, Bournonville and his guests were seated round the large old-fashioned hearth, whose wooden chimney-piece represented the death of St. Louis, rudely carved in the same material, and once painted white, now brown with smoke and time. Madelon sat in the corner with her eyes closed; but her hands moved, as if telling her large oaken beads were a mechanical effort. Guido and Francesca were in attitudes at least of attention, though the thoughts of each were far away; and the painter was dilating on the fair beauty of Mademoiselle de Longueville, and the dark beauty of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse, at both of whose portraits he had been assidulously employed during the day. Henriette and Marie