Aspasia was reclining, with a Doric harp by her side, on which she had
just been playing. The first emotion she excited was surprise at the
radiant and lucid expression, which mantled her whole face, and made the
very blood seem eloquent. In her large dark eye the proud consciousness
of intellect was softened only by melting voluptuousness; but something
of sadness about her beautiful mouth gave indication that the heavenly
part of her nature still struggled with earth-born passions.

A garland of golden leaves, with large drops of pearl, was interwoven
among the glossy braids of her hair, and rested on her forehead.

She wore a robe of rich Milesian purple, the folds of which were
confined on one shoulder within a broad ring of gold, curiously wrought;
on the other they were fastened by a beautiful cameo, representing the
head of Pericles. The crimson couch gave a soft flush to the cheek and
snowy arm that rested on it; and, for a moment, even Philothea yielded
to the enchantment of her beauty.

Full of smiles, Aspasia rose and greeted Eudora, with the ease and
gracefulness of one long accustomed to homage; but when the venerable
philosopher introduced his child, she felt the simple purity emanating
from their characters, and something of embarrassment mingled with her
respectful salutation.

Her own face was uncovered, contrary to the custom of Grecian women; and
after a few of those casual remarks which everywhere serve to fill up
the pauses in conversation, she playfully seized Eudora's veil, and
threw it back over her shoulders. She would have done the same to
Philothea; but the maiden placed her hand on the half transparent
covering, and said, "With your leave, lady, I remain veiled."