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Rh pretty, seemed to be a little older; we will confine our attention to the prettier one.

She was richly attired in Turkish style; her wasp-like waist was incased in a vest of green velvet heavily loaded with ornaments; her chemisette of striped gauze, fastened at the neck by two diamond buttons, was parted in such a manner as to afford a glimpse of a white and well turned bosom; a kerchief of white satin, studded with starry spangles, did duty as a belt. Wide, voluminous trousers came down to her knees; her slender, shapely legs were protected by Albanian gaiters of embroidered velvet as far down as her little bare feet, that were imprisoned in tiny slippers of stamped and colored morocco, quilted and stitched with gold thread; an orange caftan, embroidered with flowers of silver, and a scarlet fez, set off by a long silken tassel, completed this costume, certainly a rather fantastic one to go paying visits in at Paris in that year of evil omen, 1842.

As to her face, it had that regularity of beauty that characterizes the Turkish race: her eyes, those beautiful Oriental eyes, so clear. and so deep beneath their long lids stained with henna, seemed to open mysteriously, like two black flowers, in the dull, creamy pallor of her complexion that was like unpolished marble. She looked about her with a troubled air and seemed embarrassed; to set her mind at ease, no doubt, she held one of her feet in one of her hands and with the other hand toyed with the end of one of her tresses, which were all loaded with sequins pierced with a hole in the middle and with ribbons and strings of pearls.

The second woman, attired in pretty much the