Her skirt was of flowered satin, her bodice of rich taffeta; between the gossamer walls of her French ruff rose the whitest neck to meet the fairest face.

Upon her dark hair sat, as lightly as a kiss, a little pearl-bordered cap.

A color was in her cheeks and a laugh on her lips.

The rosy light of the burning pine caressed her,--now dwelling on the rich dress, now on the gold chain around the slender waist, now on rounded arms, now on the white forehead below the pearls.

Well, she was a fair lady for a man to lay down his life for.
"I held court this afternoon!" she cried.