e. The nose, which was
narrow and aquiline, was so long that it seemed to hang on by the
nostrils. The bones of the face were strongly marked by the long,
straight wrinkles that furrowed the hollow cheeks. Every line in the
countenance looked dark. It would suggest the bed of a torrent where
the violence of former floods was recorded in the depth of the
water-courses, which testified to some terrible, unceasing turmoil.
Like the ripples left by the oars of a boat on the waters, deep lines,
starting from each side of his nose, marked his face strongly, and
gave an expression of bitter sadness to his mouth, which was firm and
straight-lipped. Above the storm thus stamped on his countenance, his
calm brow rose with what may be called boldness, and crowned it as with
a marble dome.

The stranger preserved that intrepid and dignified manner that is
frequently habitual with men inured to disaster, and fitted by nature to
stand unmoved before a furious mob and to face the greatest dangers. He
seemed to move in a sphere apart, where he poised above humanity. His
gestures, no less than his look, were full of irresistible power; his
lean hands were those of a soldier; and if your own eyes were forced to
fall before his piercing gaze, you were no less sure to tremble when by
word or action he spoke to your soul. He moved in silent majesty that
made him seem a king without his guard, a god without his rays.

His dress emphasized the ideas suggested by the peculiarities of his
mien and face. Soul, body, and garb were in harmony, and calculated to
impress the coldest imagination. He wore a sort of sleeveless gown of
black cloth, fastened in front, and falling to the calf, leaving the
neck bare with no collar. His doublet and boots were likewise black.
On his head was a black velvet cap like a priest's, sitting in a close
circle above his forehead, and not showing a single hair. It was the
strictest mourning, the gloomiest habit a man could wear. But for a
long sword that hung by his side from a leather belt which could be
seen where his surcoat hung open, a priest would have hailed him as a
brother. Though of no more than middle height, he appeared tall; and,
looking him in the face he seemed a giant.

"The clock has struck, the boat is waiting; will you not come?"

At these words, spoken in bad French, but distinctly audible in the
silence, a little noise was heard in the other top room, and the young
man came down as lightly as