RODERICK HUDSON
ous attributes, and Roderick, always quick to react, greeted the spectacle with frank amusement. The girl noticed it and turned her face full upon him; her expression was seemingly meant to enforce greater deference. It was not deference, however, that the show provoked, but startled submissive admiration; Roderick's smile fell dead, and he sat eagerly staring. A pair of extraordinary dark blue eyes, a mass of dusky hair over a low forehead, a blooming oval of perfect purity, a flexible lip just touched with disdain, the step and carriage of a tired princess—these were the general features of his vision. The young lady walked slowly, letting her long dress rustle over the gravel; the young men had time to see her distinctly before she averted her face and went away. She left a vague sweet perfume behind her as she passed.
"Immortal powers," cried Roderick, "what a vision! In the name of transcendent perfection who is she?" He sprang up and stood looking after her till she rounded a turn in the avenue. "What a movement, what a manner, what a poise of the head! I wonder if she would sit to me?"
"You had better go and ask her," said Rowland in the same spirit. "She was quite beautiful enough."
"Beautiful? She's beauty's self—she's a revelation. I don't believe she 's living—she 's a phantasm, a vapour, an illusion!"
"The poodle," said Rowland, "is certainly alive."
"No, he too may be a grotesque phantom, like the black dog in Faust."
"I hope at least that the young lady has nothing
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