Certain it was that she bore herself with a pride of race, a majesty, a
divine grace that were peerless. It must have been some such queen as
this who first inspired the artists with the idea of representing the
princes of this earth as Olympic deities, for assuredly no goddess was
ever more beautiful. Though care and grief and humiliation had already
touched her, though there were fine lines around the proudly curving
lips and an anxious shadow in the large eyes, her complexion was still
transcendently brilliant, her figure still youthful and marvellously
graceful, and there was that in her carriage and glance that attracted
all eyes. She was dressed in a silver gauze embroidered in laurier roses
so cunningly wrought that they looked as if fresh plucked and scattered
over the lacy fabric. Her hair, which was worn simply--she had set the
fashion for less extravagance in the style of head-dress--was piled up
in lightly powdered coils, ornamented only with a feather and a star of
brilliants.
"Ainsi, Monsieur, vous connaissez notre cher de Lafayette" (she hated
and feared him) "et tout jeune que vous etes vous avez deja vu la
guerre--la mort, la victorie, et la deroute!" She spoke with a certain
sadness, and Calvert, bowing low again, and speaking only indifferent
French in his agitation, told her that under Lafayette it had been "la
mort et la victoire," but never defeat.
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