University of Virginia Library

3. III.

The services closed and the congregation departed.
The lady lingered to pray. Doubtless she felt more
than usually penitent that morning. As the echo of the
last footstep died away, apparently unconscious of observation,
she closed her missal, and crossing to the
shrine of Madonna, fell upon her knees before it. The
young foreigner softly approached, and leaning against
a pillar within a few feet of her, with his soul in his
eyes, and his eyes full of devotion, continued to gaze
upon her. Impatient at length to obtain a glimpse of
her face, he noiselessly approached the shrine and lingered

over a crypt, under a pretence of deciphering
the letters cut into the marble slab laid over it. The
echo of his step, light as it was, reverberated through
the vaulted pile, and caught her ear. She lifted her
head from the stone floor, the veil fell back from her
face, and the eyes of the two met. She rose in confused
surprise. The young man uttered an exclamation
of admiration at her strange and extraordinary
beauty.

She was very little above the middle height, with a
strikingly elegant figure, a lofty carriage, a superb
neck and bust, and surpassing symmetry of arm and
foot. Her age could not have been more than eighteen.
The soft olive of her complexion was just tinged with
the rich blood beneath. Her profile was accurately
Grecian, her lips a little too full, perhaps, but her finely
shaped mouth lost nothing of its beauty by their richness.
They were just parted in her surprise, and displayed
small white teeth; not that glaring ivory white,
which is so much admired by those who have not seen
such as here described, but of the liquid lustre of pearls.
Her silken eye-brows were penciled in perfect arches
over large-orbed, jet-black eyes, that seemed to float
in lakes of liquid languor. They were exceedingly
fine. Human eyes could not be finer. But there was
an expression in them, strange and indefinable; beautiful
yet unpleasing, as if a serpent had been looking
through the eye of a gazelle. Dark fires burned deeply
within, and the intensest passion there slumbered.
The singular expression of her eyes did not weaken
their effect on the susceptible temperament of the
young man, although he gazed into them with sensations
such as woman's eye had never before created
in his bosom. Her raven hair was gathered behind,
and fell in rich tresses about her finely shaped head.
She wore no bonnet, but instead, a black veil, that fell
from a gold comb set with precious stones, down to

her feet, which were remarkable for their small size,
high instep, and symmetrical shape.

As she encountered the ardent gaze of the young
man, the rich brown hue of her cheek, became richer
with the mounting blood. Hastily wrapping her veil
about her head, she passed him with a stately, undulating
motion, and by a side door, hitherto concealed
by a curtain, left the Cathedral, though not without
glancing over her shoulder ere she disappeared. The
baron did not hesitate to follow her. With a peculiar
ease of motion, in which grace and dignity were femininely
blended, she slowly moved along the thronged
trottoir of Chartres street. The style of her face; the
perfection of her person; the harmonious concord of
every movement; the queenly carriage; the uncovered
head; the basilisk fascination of her eyes, were all
unlike any thing he had ever seen, and altogether allured,
bewildered, and captivated him. His own elegant
person attracted the eyes of many a lovely woman
as he passed along, but he had no eye or thought for
any one but the devotee of the Cathedral. He lost
not sight of her, until he saw her enter, in one of the
most aristocratic districts of the city, a cottage-like residence,
like the most of those in New Orleans at that
time, adorned with verandahs, half buried in orange
and lemon trees, with glass doors and windows to the
ground; the whole thrown open, displaying within
apartments furnished with oriental magnificence. The
lady glanced one of her fine eyes towards him from
behind her fan, as she stepped up the verandah; he
laid his hand, between gallantry and sincerity, upon
his heart, in acknowledgment, impressed the dwelling
on his memory, and with a sigh turned away to seek
a hotel and deliver his letters.