Her lovely mouth never gave utterance to a thought that was not kind and good; indeed, all her features were beautiful, and the soft and luxuriant hair hung down to her feet in graceful curls—­the back hair was much longer, and, when unbound, fell to the ground in rich masses.

She had a musical, merry laugh, which, whether they would or not, could set all present laughing, however seriously inclined.

Her talents were many, her versatility was great; for she was accomplished in various pursuits, and in most of them excelled.  When singing or playing the harp, her dreamy eyes were more than earthly, and seemed as though beaming with poetry inspired of Heaven.

The beauty of her mind could be read in her face; she looked so heavenly, that when grown into womanhood I have, in a moment of enthusiasm, been almost tempted to fold her in my arms; but I never forgot my great mission, even in the most perilous moments.

I took particular care of the lovely girl, and selected for her husband a very handsome man and a great poet, who was chosen in due form by Sylifa at one of our marriage “choice” meetings.

The union was happy, though, perhaps, they loved each other too well.

The married couple resided in my palace, and Sylifa continued to afford to me and my guests the greatest recreation and amusement.

She was very luxurious, and very particular in her habits.  I have seen her, while amusing us, suddenly (perhaps designedly), stop short, and direct her attendant to bring the golden salver, telling us at the same time that her hand (and she had exquisite hands) was a little soiled.  She would moisten them with the perfumed water, and then resume her task of amusing us; our attention having, in the meantime, been kept in breathless suspense.

In my palace under the sea (for I had a submarine retreat, of which I may speak hereafter) there was a large sheet or basin of water, in which she would sport most gracefully, modestly attired, as a nymph of the sea.

She always identified herself with the part she sustained.  As a sea nymph, she could never be induced to speak; but, when we addressed her, she always replied in musical tones, because, according to our legends, mermaids always discoursed in song.

In the basin of water there were willows, hung with small lyres, through which Sylifa would show her face, and then, taking one of the lyres, would play and sing exquisitely, always keeping up the illusion.

She was very fond of a lion brought up in my palace, with which, as a cub, she had played when a child.  As a woman, she had complete mastery over the noble animal.  Both as a child and as a woman, she, with the lion, formed the subject of many of the beautiful pictures that adorned my palaces.

For a particular reason, we once separated Sylifa from her husband for a day.  She refused to eat; neither would she retire to rest.  As the day was ending she walked into the room where I sat with my numerous guests.