to her, if you ever look at her, all is over between us,"
said the duchess to the poet in a low voice, not at all satisfied with
the very doubtful termination which Ernest's arrival had put to the
scene; "and remember, if I am not present, I leave behind me eyes that
will watch you."

So saying, the duchess, a woman of medium height, but a little too
stout, like all women over fifty who retain their beauty, rose and
walked toward the group which surrounded Diane de Maufrigneuse, stepping
daintily on little feet that were as slender and nervous as a deer's.
Beneath her plumpness could be seen the exquisite delicacy of such
women, which comes from the vigor of their nervous systems controlling
and vitalizing the development of flesh. There is no other way to
explain the lightness of her step, and the incomparable nobility of her
bearing. None but the women whose quarterings begin with Noah know,
as Eleonore did, how to be majestic in spite of a buxom tendency. A
philosopher might have pitied Philoxene, while admiring the graceful
lines of the bust and the minute care bestowed upon a morning dress,
which was worn with the elegance of a queen and the easy grace of a
young girl. Her abundant hair, still undyed, was simply wound about her
head in plaits; she bared her snowy throat and shoulders, exquisitely
modelled, and her celebrated hand and arm, with pardonable pride.
Modeste, together with all other antagonists of the duchess, recognized
in her a woman of whom they were forced to say, "She eclipses us." In
fact, Eleonore was one of the "grandes dames" now so rare. To endeavor
to explain what august quality there was in the carriage of the head,
what refinement and delicacy in the curve of the throat, what harmony in
her movements, and nobility in her bearing, what grandeur in the perfect
accord of details with the whole being, and in the arts, now a second
nature, which render a woman grand and even sacred,--to explain all
these things would simply be to attempt to analyze the sublime. People
enjoy such poetry as they enjoy that of Paganini; they do not explain to
themselves the medium, they know the cause is in the spirit that remains
invisible.

Madame de Chaulieu bowed her head in salutation of Helene and her aunt;
then, saying to Diane, in a pure and equable tone of voice, without a
trace of emotion, "Is it not time to dress, duchess?" she made her exit,
accompanied by her daughter-in-law and Mademoiselle d'Herouvil