Let me tell you a little concerning her.
In towns as well as in hamlets, you know there is always the pearl of love, precious above all the rest; well, every voice united proclaim her, in the canton, the Beauty of Beauties.
But I would not have you imagine that she is pensive--that she sighs--that she is pale as a lily--that she has languishing, half-closed eyes, blue and soft--that she is slight, and bends with languor, like the willow that inclines beside a clear stream.

You would be greatly deceived: Franconnette has eyes brilliant as two sparkling stars; one might think to gather bunches of roses on her rounded cheeks; her chestnut hair waves in rich curls; her mouth is like a cherry; her teeth would make snow look dim; her little feet are delicately moulded; her ankle is light and fine.

In effect, Franconnette was the true star of beauty in a female form, grafted here below.
All these charms, too evident to all, caused ceaseless envy amongst the young girls, and many sighs amongst the swains.

Poor young enthusiasts, there was not one who would not have died for her: they looked at her--they adored her as the priest adores the cross.

The fair one saw it with delight; and her countenance was radiant with pride and pleasure.
Nevertheless, she has a secret dawn of vexation; the finest flower is wanting in her circlet of triumph.