Like the Madonnas of Luini whose looks are so full of earnest tenderness, this young girl was sweet and beautiful.
She lived on calm, but sad.

No doubt the sadness increased in that pure soul when she knew that no devotion tender as her own, ever came to sweeten the existence of one whom she had adored with that ingenuous submission, that exclusive devotion, that entire self-forgetfulness, naive and sublime, which transform the woman into the angel.
Those who are gifted by nature with the beautiful, yet fatal energies of genius, and who are consequently forbidden to sacrifice the care of their glory to the exactions of their love, are probably right in fixing limits to the abnegation of their own personality.

But the divine emotions due to absolute devotion, may be regretted even in the presence of the most sparkling endowments of genius.

The utter submission, the disinterestedness of love, in absorbing the existence, the will, the very name of the woman in that of the man she loves, can alone authorize him in believing that he has really shared his life with her, and that his honorable love for her has given her that which no chance lover, accidentally met, could have rendered her: peace of heart and the honor of his name.
This young Polish lady, unfortunately separated from Chopin, remained faithful to his memory, to all that was left of him.

She devoted herself to his parents.