The hood had fallen from her head and dishevelled her hair; her mouth was open slightly, her eyes raised toward the Apostle, her face fixed in listening and delighted.
She was dressed in a dark woollen mantle, like a daughter of the people, but never had Vinicius seen her more beautiful; and notwithstanding all the disorder which had risen in him, he was struck by the nobility of that wonderful patrician head in distinction to the dress, almost that of a slave.

Love flew over him like a flame, immense, mixed with a marvellous feeling of yearning, homage, honor, and desire.

He felt the delight which the sight of her caused him; he drank of her as of life-giving water after long thirst.

Standing near the gigantic Lygian, she seemed to him smaller than before, almost a child; he noticed, too, that she had grown more slender.

Her complexion had become almost transparent; she made on him the impression of a flower, and a spirit.
But all the more did he desire to possess that woman, so different from all women whom he had seen or possessed in Rome or the Orient.