In personal appearance Ethelbert Stanhope was the most singular
of beings. He was certainly very handsome. He had his sister
Madeline's eyes, without their stare and without their hard, cunning,
cruel firmness. They were also very much lighter, and of so light and
clear a blue as to make his face remarkable, if nothing else did so.
On entering a room with him, Ethelbert's blue eyes would be the first
thing you would see, and on leaving it almost the last you would
forget. His light hair was very long and silky, coming down over his
coat. His beard had been prepared in holy land, and was patriarchal.
He never shaved and rarely trimmed it. It was glossy, soft, clean,
and altogether not unprepossessing. It was such that ladies might
desire to reel it off and work it into their patterns in lieu of
floss silk. His complexion was fair and almost pink; he was small
in height and slender in limb, but well-made; and his voice was of
peculiar sweetness.

In manner and dress he was equally remarkable. He had none of the
_mauvaise honte_ of an Englishman. He required no introduction
to make himself agreeable to any person. He habitually addressed
strangers, ladies as well as men, without any such formality, and
in doing so never seemed to meet with rebuke. His costume cannot
be described because it was so various, but it was always totally
opposed in every principle of colour and construction to the dress
of those with whom he for the time consorted.

He was habitually addicted to making love to ladies, and did so
without any scruples of conscience, or any idea that such a practice
was amiss. He had no heart to touch himself, and was literally
unaware that humanity was subject to such an infliction. He had not