I could hold in mine, have an iron power of finger, in the
proportion, like that of Liszt. The keys, not the fingers, bend;
she can compass ten keys by the span and elasticity of her
fingers; this phenomenon must be seen to be believed. Music, her
mother, and her husband: these three words sum up her character.
She is the Fenella of the fireside; the will-o'-wisp of our souls;
our gaiety; the life of the house. When she is not here, the very
walls are conscious of her absence--so much does she brighten them
by her presence. She had never known misfortune; she knows nothing
of annoyance; she is the idol of all who surround her, and she had
the sensibility and goodness of an angel: in one word, she unites
qualities which moralists consider incompatible; it is, however,
only a self-evident fact to all who know her. She is evidently
well informed, without pedantry; she has a delightful _naivete_;
and though long since married, she has still the gaiety of a
child, loving laughter like a little girl, which does not prevent
her from possessing a religious enthusiasm for great objects.
Physically, she has a grace even more beautiful than beauty, which
triumphs over a complexion still somewhat brown (she is hardly
sixteen);[*] a nose well formed, but not striking, except in the
profile; a charming figure, supple and _svelte_; feet and hands
exquisitely formed, and wonderfully small, as I have just
mentioned. All these advantages are, moreover, thrown into relief
by a proud bearing, full of race, by an air of distinction and
ease which all queens have not, and which is now quite lost in
France, where everybody wishes to be equal. This exterior--this
air of distinction--this look of a _grande dame_, is one of the
most precious gifts which God--the God of women can bestow. The
Countess Georges speaks four languages as if she were a native of
each of the countries whose tongue she knows so thoroughly. She