No swallow,
brushing the window-panes at dusk, ever conveyed the idea of greater
elegance of outline.
Gabrielle's face was thin, but not flat; on her neck and forehead ran
bluish threads showing the delicacy of a skin so transparent that the
flowing of the blood through her veins seemed visible. This excessive
whiteness was faintly tinted with rose upon the cheeks. Held beneath a
little coif of sky-blue velvet embroidered with pearls, her hair, of
an even tone, flowed like two rivulets of gold from her temples and
played in ringlets on her neck, which it did not hide. The glowing
color of those silky locks brightened the dazzling whiteness of the
neck, and purified still further by its reflections the outlines of
the face already so pure. The eyes, which were long and as if pressed
between their lids, were in harmony with the delicacy of the head and
body; their pearl-gray tints were brilliant without vivacity, candid
without passion. The line of the nose might have seemed cold, like a
steel blade, without two rosy nostrils, the movements of which were
out of keeping with the chastity of that dreamy brow, often perplexed,
sometimes smiling, but always of an august serenity.
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