Up to her fifteenth year she had been even ugly.
The Rocreuse people had not been able to understand why the daughter of Pere and Mere Merlier, both of whom had always enjoyed excellent health, grew ill and with an air of regret.

But at fifteen, though yet delicate, her little face became one of the prettiest in the world.

She had black hair, black eyes, and was as rosy as a peach; her lips constantly wore a smile; there were dimples in her cheeks, and her fair forehead seemed crowned with sunlight.

Although not considered robust in the district, she was far from thin; the idea was simply that she could not lift a sack of grain, but she would become plump as she grew older--she would eventually be as round and dainty as a quail.

Her father's long periods of silence had made her thoughtful very young.