As she approached me, nearer and nearer, I was irresistibly reminded of the gem of that superb collection--the matchless Virgin of Raphael, called "The Madonna di San Sisto." The fair broad forehead; the peculiar fullness of the flesh between the eyebrow and the eyelid; the delicate outline of the lower face; the tender, sensitive lips; the color of the complexion and the hair--all reflected, with a startling fidelity, the lovely creature of the Dresden picture.

The one fatal point at which the resemblance ceased, was in the eyes.

The divinely-beautiful eyes of Raphael's Virgin were lost in the living likeness of her that confronted me now.

There was no deformity; there was nothing to recoil from, in my blind Lucilla.

The poor, dim, sightless eyes had a faded, changeless, inexpressive look--and that was all.