favourites, and the subject of her studies. She puffed out her
bodices like those in Leonardo's and Rafael's portraits of women,
and tried in other ways as well to resemble them.

She left off writing verses, and wrote stories instead; the style
was good, though they were anything rather than spontaneous.

They were short, with a more or less clear pointe. Stories by a
girl of eighteen do not as a general rule make a sensation, but
these were particularly audacious. It was evident that their only
object was to scandalise. Instead of her own name she used the
nom-de-plume of "Puss." This, however, was only to postpone the
announcement that the author who scandalised her readers most, and
that at a time when every author strove to do so, was a girl of
eighteen belonging to one of the first families in the country.

Soon every one knew that "Puss" was she of the tumbled red locks,
"the tall Renaissance figure with the Titian hair."

Her hair was abundant, glossy, and slightly curling; she still
wore it hanging loose over her neck and shoulders, as she had done
as a child. Her great eyes seemed to look out upon a new world;
but one felt that the lower part of her face was scarcely in
harmony with the upper. The cheeks fell in a little; the prominent
nose made the mouth look smaller than it actually was; her neck
seemed only to lead the eye downward to her bosom, which almost
appeared to caress her throat, especially when her head was bent
forward, as was generally the case. And very beautiful the throat
was, delicate in colour, superb in contour, and admirably set upon
the bust. For this reason she could never find in her heart to