whitened. She was still a child, no doubt, but a child ripening into
womanhood. She had reached that adorable, uncertain hour when the
frolicsome girl changes to a young woman. At that stage of life a
bud-like delicacy, a hesitancy of contour that is exquisitely charming,
distinguishes young girls. The outlines of womanhood appear amidst
girlhood's innocent slimness, and woman shoots forth at first all
embarrassment, still retaining much of the child, and ever and
unconsciously betraying her sex. This period is very unpropitious for
some girls, who suddenly shoot up, become ugly, sallow and frail, like
plants before their due season. For those, however, who, like Miette,
are healthy and live in the open air, it is a time of delightful
gracefulness which once passed can never be recalled.

Miette was thirteen years of age, and although strong and sturdy did not
look any older, so bright and childish was the smile which lit up her
countenance. However, she was nearly as tall as Silvere, plump and full
of life. Like her lover, she had no common beauty. She would not have
been considered ugly, but she might have appeared peculiar to many young
exquisites. Her rich black hair rose roughly erect above her forehead,
streamed back like a rushing wave, and flowed over her head and neck
like an inky sea, tossing and bubbling capriciously. It was very thick
and inconvenient to arrange. However, she twisted it as tightly as
possible into coils as thick as a child's fist, which she wound together
at the back of her head. She had little time to devote to her toilette,
but this huge chignon, hastily contrived without the aid of any mirror,
was often instinct with vigorous grace. On seeing her thus naturally
helmeted with a mass of frizzy hair which hung about her neck and
temples like a mane, one could readily understand why she always went
bareheaded, heedless alike of rain and frost.