contour is simply perfect, is crowned with a mass of dark hair, shining
like the lustrous wing of some rare bird. The brow is white, rounded at
the temples and clear as the leaf of the lily. The brows are straight,
delicate and have in them wonderful expression. But it was Lady Amelie's
eyes that drew men so irresistibly to her feet. They were irresistible.
Black, with a languid, golden light in their wondrous depths; full of
veiled fire and repressed passion. They could melt and flash, persuade
and command, as no other eyes did. No man ever looked into their depths
without losing himself there. Her mouth was no less beautiful, tender
and sensitive; yet those lovely lips could curl with scorn that withered
and pride that crashed.

She knew that she was beautiful, and she rejoiced in her beauty, as the
lion in his strength or the serpent in its cunning. Men she looked upon
as her natural vassals, her subjects, her lawful prey. She never once,
in the whole course of her triumphant life, paused to think whether or
not she inflicted pain. If any one had said to her, abruptly, "You have
made such a person suffer," she would have laughed gaily. The ache and
pain of honest hearts is incense to a coquette.

And Lady Amelie Lisle was a coquette to the very depth of her heart! She
could have counted her victims by the hundred. Who ever saw her and did
not love her? She delighted in this universal worship; it became
necessary to her as the air she breathed. Universal dominion was her end
and aim; but once sure of a man's love or admiration, it became
worthless to her and she longed for something fresh. Like Alexander, she
would have conquered worlds.

Not, be it understood, that Lady Amelie, as she expressed it, "ever went
in for anything serious." She had never been in love in her life, except