wont, impair; her complexion was bright, the white and red distinct and clear; her hair was black and curly, the forehead broad and smooth; the nose was small, the mouth slightly open, with white and even teeth, short upper lip, the under lip rather full. Her eyes were dark and bright, sparkling and shining. Her hands were small, the fingers slight and tapering; her whole appearance forming a striking combination of dignity and beauty.” There is an engraving of her, taken from a portrait painted by Fra Juan de la Miseria, later in life, and now preserved in Avila. Fra Juan was not much of an artist, and on seeing her picture, Theresa is said to have exclaimed, “So, after all, father, you have made me blear-eyed and ugly.” Vanity was always one of Theresa’s besetting sins.
The children of the sixteenth century found their amusement in listening to the legends of the saints and martyrs, just as the children of the nineteenth century find theirs in listening to the mischievous pranks of Andersen’s or Grimm’s heroes and heroines; and as modern
