Her soul, however, is as white as her complexion is black, and she has the air of being so little conscious of her own appearance, that her homeliness may be said to become her.

She passes whole days in the open fields, when the grasshoppers can scarcely endure the sun.

Her tanned hide braves the heats of the dog-star, and, in the evening, she arrives as fresh as if she had just risen from bed.

She does all the work of my house, besides taking care of her husband and children and attending my guests.

She seems occupied with everybody but herself.