excepted. I don't see that I can give a more accurate summary of this
interesting topic.

True, I have my weak points; but were I a man, I should adore them.
They arise from what is most promising in me. When you have spent a
fortnight admiring the exquisite curves of your mother's arms, and
that mother the Duchesse de Chaulieu, it is impossible, my dear, not
to deplore your own angular elbows. Yet there is consolation in
observing the fineness of the wrist, and a certain grace of line in
those hollows, which will yet fill out and show plump, round, and well
modeled, under the satiny skin. The somewhat crude outline of the arms
is seen again in the shoulders. Strictly speaking, indeed, I have no
shoulders, but only two bony blades, standing out in harsh relief. My
figure also lacks pliancy; there is a stiffness about the side lines.

Poof! There's the worst out. But then the contours are bold and
delicate, the bright, pure flame of health bites into the vigorous
lines, a flood of life and of blue blood pulses under the transparent
skin, and the fairest daughter of Eve would seem a Negress beside me!
I have the foot of a gazelle! My joints are finely turned, my features
of a Greek correctness. It is true, madame, that the flesh tints do
not melt into each other; but, at least, they stand out clear and
bright. In short, I am a very pretty green fruit, with all the charm
of unripeness. I see a great likeness to the face in my aunt's old
missal, which rises out of a violet lily.

There is no silly weakness in the blue of my insolent eyes; the white
is pure mother-of-pearl, prettily marked with tiny veins, and the
thick, long lashes fall like a silken fringe. My forehead sparkles,
and the hair grows deliciously; it ripples into waves of pale gold,