the little political artifices of her sex so naturally as to exclude
all idea of art or premeditation. If she has a royally beautiful hand,
the most perspicacious beholder will believe that it is absolutely
necessary that she should twist, or refix, or push aside the ringlet
or curl she plays with. If she has some dignity of profile, you will
be persuaded that she is giving irony or grace to what she says to her
neighbor, sitting in such a position as to produce the magical effect
of the 'lost profile,' so dear to great painters, by which the cheek
catches the high light, the nose is shown in clear outline, the
nostrils are transparently rosy, the forehead squarely modeled, the
eye has its spangle of fire, but fixed on space, and the white
roundness of the chin is accentuated by a line of light. If she has a
pretty foot, she will throw herself on a sofa with the coquettish
grace of a cat in the sunshine, her feet outstretched without your
feeling that her attitude is anything but the most charming model ever
given to a sculptor by lassitude.

"Only the perfect lady is quite at her ease in full dress; nothing
inconveniences her. You will never see her, like the woman of the
citizen class, pulling up a refractory shoulder-strap, or pushing down
a rebellious whalebone, or looking whether her tucker is doing its
office of faithful guardian to two treasures of dazzling whiteness, or
glancing in the mirrors to see if her head-dress is keeping its place.
Her toilet is always in harmony with her character; she had had time
to study herself, to learn what becomes her, for she has long known
what does not suit her. You will not find her as you go out; she
vanishes before the end of the play. If by chance she is to be seen,
calm and stately, on the stairs, she is experiencing some violent
emotion; she has to bestow a glance, to receive a promise. Perhaps she
goes down so slowly on purpose to gratify the vanity of a slave whom