of whiteness and brightness, and in growing older she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness.  What had been thinness in her youth had became in her maturity transparency, and through this transparency the angel could be seen.—­Les Miserables.

A ray of happiness was visible upon her face.  Never had she appeared more beautiful.  Her features were remarkable for prettiness rather than what is called beauty.  Their fault, if fault it be, lay in a certain excess of grace....  The ideal virgin is the transfiguration of a face like this.  Deruchette, touched by her sorrow and love, seemed to have caught that higher and more holy expression.  It was the difference between the field daisy and the lily.—­Toilers of the Sea.

The glance of a woman resembles certain wheels which are apparently gentle but are formidable....  You come, you go, you dream, you speak, you laugh, and all in a minute you feel yourself caught, and it is all over with you.  The wheel holds you, the glance has caught you.—­Les Miserables.

     She had listened to nothing, but mothers hear certain things
     without listening.—­Ninety-Three.

She was really a respectable, firm, equitable, and just person, full of that charity which consists in giving, but not possessing to the same extent the charity which comprehends and pardons.—­Les Miserables.

She seemed a vision scarcely embodied; ... in her fairness, which amounted almost to serenity of her look; ... in the sacred innocence of her smile, she was almost an angel, and yet just a woman.—­By Order of the King.

The girl becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous as the lark.  Noting her movements, we feel as if it were good of her not to fly away.  The dear familiar companion moves at her own sweet will about the house; flits from branch to branch, or rather from room to room; goes to and fro; approaches and retires....  She asks a question and is answered; is asked something in return, and chirps a reply.  It is delightful to chat with her when tired of serious talk; for this creature carries with her something of her skyey element.  She is, as it were, a thread of gold interwoven with your sombre thoughts; you feel almost grateful to her for her kindness in not making herself invisible, when it would be so easy for her to be even impalpable; for the beautiful is a necessity of life.  There is in the world no function more important than that of being charming....  To shed joy around, to radiate happiness, to cast light upon dark days, to be the golden thread of our destiny, and the very spirit of grace and harmony, is not this to render a service?—­Toilers of the Sea.

     She scarcely knew, perhaps, the meaning of the word love, and yet
     not unwillingly ensnared those about her in the toils.—­Toilers of
     the Sea.