r she was beautiful, with a
pale, grave, serious beauty, unlike the ordinary beauty of woman. But
even this, her beauty of feature, and color, and form, was eclipsed and
overborne by that "true beauty of the soul" which outshines all other,
as the sun puts out the stars.

There was in her face--or, perhaps, rather in her expression--an
indefinable something that came upon me almost like a memory. Had I seen
that face in some forgotten dream of long ago? Brown-haired was she, and
pale, with a brow "as chaste ice, as pure as snow," and eyes--

"In whose orb a shadow lies,
Like the dusk in evening skies!"

Eyes lit from within, large, clear, lustrous, with a meaning in them so
profound and serious that it was almost sorrowful,--like the eyes of
Giotto's saints and Cimabue's Madonnas.

But I cannot describe her--

"For oh, her looks had something excellent That wants a name!"

I can only look back upon her with "my mind's eye," trying to see her as
I saw her then for the first time, and striving to recall my first
impressions.

Madame Bouisse, meanwhile, searched in all the corners of her ample
pockets, turned out her table-drawer, dived into the recesses of her
husband's empty garments, and peeped into every ornament upon the
chimney-piece; but in vain. There was no such thing as a ten-sous piece
to be found.

"Pray, M'sieur Basil," said she, "have you one?"

"One what?" I ejaculated, startled out of my reverie.

"Why, a ten-sous piece, to be sure. Don't you see that Mam'selle
Hortense is waiting in her wet shoes, and that I have been hunting for
the last five minutes, and can't find one anywhere?"

Blushing like a school-boy, and stammering some unintelligible excuse, I
pulled out a handful of francs and half-francs, and produced the
coin required.

"_Dame_!" said the _concierge_. "This comes of using one's eyes too
well, my young Monsieur. Hem! I'm not so blind but that I can see as far
as my neighbors."

Mademoiselle Hortense had fortunately gone back to settle with the
porter, so this observation passed unheard. The man being dismissed, she
came back, carrying the parcel. It was evidently heavy, and she put it
down on the nearest chair.

"I fear, Madame Bouisse," she said, "that I must ask you to help me with
this. I am not strong enough to carry it upstairs."

More alert this time, I took a step in advance, and offered my services.

"Will Mademoiselle permit me to take it?" I said. "I am