ep, so little suggestive of
the burden of life that it might easily be seen that she was young.
Her movements possessed that subtle grace which indicates the most
delicate of all transitions--the soft intermingling, as it-were,
of two twilights,--the passage from the condition of a child to
that of womanhood.--_Toilers of the Sea._

She had never been pretty, but her whole life, which had been but a
succession of pious works, had eventually cast over her a species
of whiteness and brightness, and in growing older she had acquired
what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been thinness
in her youth had became in her maturity transparency, and through
this transparency the angel could be seen.--_Les Miserables._

A ray of happiness was visible upon her face. Never had she
appeared more beautiful. Her features were remarkable for
prettiness rather than what is called beauty. Their fault, if fault
it be, lay in a certain excess of grace.... The ideal virgin is the
transfiguration of a face like this. Deruchette, touched by her
sorrow and love, seemed to have caught that higher and more holy
expression. It was the difference between the field daisy and the
lily.--_Toilers of the Sea._

The glance of a woman resembles certain wheels which are apparently
gentle but are formidable.... You come, you go, you dream, you
speak, you laugh, and all in a minute you feel yourself caught, and
it is all over with you. The wheel holds you, the glance has caught
you.--_Les Miserables._

She had listened to nothing, but mothers hear certain things
without listening.--_Ninety-Three._

She was really a respectable, firm, equitable, and just person,
full of that charity which consists in giving, but not possessing
to the same extent the charity which comprehends and pardons.--_Les
Miserables._

She seemed a vision scarcely embodied; ... in her fairness, which
amounted almost to serenity of her look; ... in the sacred
innocence of her smile, she was almost an angel, and yet just a
woman.--_By Order of the King._

The girl becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous as the lark. Noting her
movements, we feel as if it were good of her not to fly away. The
dear familiar companion moves at her own sweet will about the
house; flits from branch to branch,