er
misfortunes, the recollection of the tragic scenes of Versailles, the
uneasiness of each day somewhat diminished her youthful freshness. She
was tall, slim, and graceful,--a real daughter of Tyrol. Her naturally
majestic carriage in no way impaired the grace of her movements; her
neck rising elegantly and distinctly from her shoulders gave expression
to every attitude. The woman was perceptible beneath the queen, the
tenderness of heart was not lost in the elevation of her destiny. Her
light brown hair was long and silky, her forehead, high and rather
projecting, was united to her temples by those fine curves which give so
much delicacy and expression to that seat of thought or the soul in
women; her eyes of that clear blue which recall the skies of the North
or the waters of the Danube; an aquiline nose, with nostrils open and
slightly projecting, where emotions palpitate and courage is evidenced;
a large mouth, brilliant teeth, Austrian lips, that is, projecting and
well defined; an oval countenance, animated, varying, impassioned, and
the _ensemble_ of these features replete with that expression impossible
to describe which emanates from the look, the shades, the reflections of
the face, which encompasses it with an iris like that of the warm and
tinted vapour which bathes objects in full sunlight--the extreme
loveliness which the ideal conveys, and which by giving it life
increases its attraction. With all these charms, a soul yearning to
attach itself, a heart easily moved, but yet earnest in desire to fix
itself; a pensive and intelligent smile, with nothing of vacuity in it,
nothing of preference or mere acquaintanceship in it, because it felt
itself worthy of friendships. Such was Marie-Antoinette as a woman.

XIII.

It was enough to form the happiness of a man and the ornament of a
court: to inspire a wavering monarch, and be the safeguard of a state
under trying circumstances, something more is requisite. The genius of
government is required, and the queen had it not. Nothing could have
prepared her for the regulation of the disordered elements which were
about her; misfortune had given her no time for reflection. Hailed with
enthusiasm by a perverse court and an ardent nation, she must have
believed in the eternity of such sentiments. She was lulled to sleep in
the dissipations of the Trianon. She had heard the first threatenings of
the tempest without believing in its dangers: she had trusted in the
l