coration of the walls. But the floor was not
boarded, the walls were rough plastered, and the only provision for
light and air were two little holes furnished with shutters. The
princess, a woman apparently between five-and-thirty and forty years of
age, was by no means fitted to sustain the Circassian reputation for
beauty. Her dress had a character of its own: under a brocaded pelisse,
with short sleeves and laced seams, she wore a silk chemise, which
displayed more of the bosom than European notions of decorum would
approve. A velvet cap, trimmed with silver, smooth plaits of hair, cut
heart-shape on the forehead, a white veil falling from the top of the
head and covering over the bosom, and finally, a red shawl thrown
carelessly over the lap--_voila tout!_ As for the daughter, she was
charming. She wore a white robe fastened round the waist by a red
kazavek. Her features were delicate; she had a complexion of exquisite
fairness, revealing the play of "the pure and eloquent blood" which
"spoke in her cheek, and so distinctly wrought that one might almost say
her body thought;" and a profusion of glossy raven tresses escaped from
under her cap.

Beyond all praise was the geniality of the two ladies. About the country
of their visitors, their calling, and the objects of their journey, they
put a thousand questions. The European costume, and especially the straw
hats, interested them greatly. Yet there was a certain air of coldness
and impassiveness about them, and not once did the princess smile, until
a long curtain accidentally fell, and shut her out for a moment from her
guests. After a short but rapid conversation the visitors asked the
princess's permission to take her portrait and sketch the interior of
her abode. She offered no objection. When the drawings were finished, a
collation was served, consisting of fruits and cheese-cakes. In the
evening, the strangers took their leave, and, on coming out of the hut,
they found all the inhabitants of the _aoul_ assembled to witness their
departure and do them honour.

* * * * *

We must resume our narrative of Madame de Hell's journey. On their way
to Stavropol, they experienced a mountain-storm, one of the grandest and
most terrible they had ever witnessed. The roar of the thunder,
repeated by every echo in cavern and ravine, mingled with the groaning
and jarring of the great trees, with the loud gusts of the furious wind,
with all th