I behold!

I saw a woman dressed with the utmost elegance, reclining voluptuously
upon a couch. As soon as she saw me she arose, gave me a most gracious
reception, and going back to her couch invited me to sit beside her. She
doubtless noticed my surprise, but being probably accustomed to the
impression which the first sight of her created, she talked on in the
most friendly manner, and by so doing diminished my aversion.

Her appearance was as follows: Madame de Saone was beautifully dressed,
and had the whitest hands and the roundest arms that can be imagined. Her
dress, which was cut very low, allowed me to see an exquisite breast of
dazzling whiteness, heightened by two rosy buds; her figure was good, and
her feet the smallest I have ever seen. All about her inspired love, but
when one's eyes turned to her face every other feeling gave way to those
of horror and pity. She was fearful. Instead of a face, one saw a
blackened and disgusting scab. No feature was distinguishable, and her
ugliness was made more conspicuous and dreadful by two fine eyes full of
fire, and by a lipless mouth which she kept parted, as if to disclose two
rows of teeth of dazzling whiteness. She could not laugh, for the pain
caused by the contraction of the muscles would doubtless have drawn tears
to her eyes; nevertheless she appeared contented, her conversation was
delightful, full of wit and humour, and permeated with the tone of good
society. She might be thirty at the most, and she had left three
beautiful young children behind in Paris. Her husband was a fine,
well-made man, who loved her tenderly, and had never slept apart from
her. It is probable that few soldiers have shewn such courage as this,
but it is to be supposed that he did not carry his bravery so far as to
kiss her, as the very thought made one shudder. A disorder contracted
after her first child-bed had left the poor woman in this sad state, and
she had borne it for ten years. All the best doctors in France had tried
in vain to cure her, and she had come to Berne to put herself into the
hands of two well-known physicians who had promised to do so. Every quack
makes promises of this sort; their patients are cured or not cured as it
happens, and provided that they pay heavily the doctor is ready enough to
lay the fault, not on his ignorance, but at the door of his poor deluded
patient.

The doctor came while I was with her, and just as her intelligent
conversation was making