their expression of calm and contemplative voluptuousness the more observable; the circle round the eyes showed marks of fatigue, but the artistic manner in which she could turn her eyeballs, right and left, or up and down, to observe, or seem to mediate, the way in which she could hold them fixed, casting out their vivid fire without moving her head, without taking from her face its absolute immovability (a manoeuvre learned upon the stage), and the vivacity of their glance, as she looked about a theatre in search of a friend, made her eyes the most terrible, also the softest, in short, the most extraordinary eyes in the world.  Rouge had destroyed by this time the diaphanous tints of her cheeks, the flesh of which was still delicate; but although she could no longer blush or turn pale, she had a thin nose with rosy, passionate nostrils, made to express irony,—­the mocking irony of Moliere’s women-servants.  Her sensual mouth, expressive of sarcasm and love of dissipation, was adorned with a deep furrow that united the upper lip with the nose.  Her chin, white and rather fat, betrayed the violence of passion.  Her hands and arms were worthy of a sovereign.

But she had one ineradicable sign of low birth,—­her foot was short and fat.  No inherited quality ever caused greater distress.  Florine had tried everything, short of amputation, to get rid of it.  The feet were obstinate, like the Breton race from which she came; they resisted all treatment.  Florine now wore long boots stuffed with cotton, to give length, and the semblance of an instep.  Her figure was of medium height, threatened with corpulence, but still well-balanced, and well-made.

Morally, she was an adept in all the attitudinizing, quarrelling, alluring, and cajoling of her business; and she gave to those actions a savor of their own by playing childlike innocence, and slipping in among her artless speeches philosophical malignities.  Apparently ignorant and giddy, she was very strong on money-matters and commercial law,—­for the reason that she had gone through so much misery before attaining to her present precarious success.  She had come down, story by story, from the garret to the first floor, through so many vicissitudes!  She knew life, from that which begins in Brie cheese and ends at pineapples; from that which cooks and washes in the corner of a garret on an earthenware stove, to that which convokes the tribes of pot-bellied chefs and saucemakers.  She had lived on credit and not killed it; she was ignorant of nothing that honest women ignore; she spoke all languages:  she was one of the populace by experience; she was noble by beauty and physical distinction.  Suspicious as a spy, or a judge, or an old statesman, she was difficult to impose upon, and therefore the more able to see clearly into most matters.  She knew the ways of managing tradespeople, and how to evade their snares, and she was quite as well versed in the prices of things as a public appraiser.  To see her lying on her sofa, like a young bride, fresh and white, holding her part in her hand and learning it, you would have thought her a child of sixteen, ingenuous, ignorant, and weak, with no other artifice about her but her innocence.  Let a creditor contrive to enter, and she was up like a startled fawn, and swearing a good round oath.