Here there was no benignity, only terrible force and infinite wisdom.
Contemplating him I shivered a little and felt thankful that he was dead.

For to tell the truth I was afraid of that awesome countenance which, I should add, was of the whiteness of paper, although the cheeks still showed tinges of colour, so perfect was the preservation of the corpse.
I was still gazing at it when Bickley said in a voice of amazement: "I say, look here, in the other coffin." I turned, looked, and nearly collapsed on the floor of the vault, since beauty can sometimes strike us like a blow.

Oh! there before me lay all loveliness, such loveliness that there burst from my lips an involuntary cry: "Alas! that she should be dead!" A young woman, I supposed, at least she looked young, perhaps five or six and twenty years of age, or so I judged.

There she lay, her tall and delicate shape half hidden in masses of rich-hued hair in colour of a ruddy blackness.

I know not how else to describe it, since never have I seen any of the same tint.