The coquette is blind: she does not see her wrinkles.--_By Order of
the King._


A mother's arms are made of tenderness, and children sleep soundly
in them.--_Les Misérables._


There are moments when a woman accepts, like a sombre and resigned
duty, the worship of love.--_Les Misérables._


She was pale with that paleness which is like the transparency of a
divine life in an earthly face.... A soul standing in the
dawn.--_By Order of the King._

He looked at her, and saw nothing but her. This is love; one may be
carried away for a moment by the importunity of some other idea,
but the beloved one enters, and all that does not appertain to her
presence immediately fades away, without her dreaming that perhaps
she is effacing in us a world.--_By Order of the King._

She walked on with a light and free step, so little suggestive of
the burden of life that it might easily be seen that she was young.
Her movements possessed that subtle grace which indicates the most
delicate of all transitions--the soft intermingling, as it-were,
of two twilights,--the passage from the condition of a child to
that of womanhood.--_Toilers of the Sea._