ch I hesitated whether to attribute to native reserve or to
the profane constraint of my presence. She had been that morning to
confession; she had also been to market, and had bought a chicken for
dinner. She felt very happy; she had nothing to complain of except that
the people for whom she was making her vestment, and who furnished her
materials, should be willing to put such rotten silver thread into the
garment, as one might say, of the Lord. From time to time, as she took
her slow stitches, she raised her eyes and covered me with a glance which
seemed at first to denote a placid curiosity, but in which, as I saw it
repeated, I thought I perceived the dim glimmer of an attempt to
establish an understanding with me at the expense of our companion.
Meanwhile, as mindful as possible of Theobald's injunction of reverence,
I considered the lady's personal claims to the fine compliment he had
paid her.

That she was indeed a beautiful woman I perceived, after recovering from
the surprise of finding her without the freshness of youth. Her beauty
was of a sort which, in losing youth, loses little of its essential
charm, expressed for the most part as it was in form and structure, and,
as Theobald would have said, in "composition." She was broad and ample,
low-browed and large-eyed, dark and pale. Her thick brown hair hung low
beside her cheek and ear, and seemed to drape her head with a covering as
chaste and formal as the veil of a nun. The poise and carriage of her
head were admirably free and noble, and they were the more effective that
their freedom was at moments discreetly corrected by a little
sanctimonious droop, which harmonised admirably with the level gaze of
her dark and quiet eye. A strong, serene, physical nature, and the
placid temper which comes of no nerves and no troubles, seemed this
lady's comfortable portion. She was dressed in plain dull black, save
for a sort of dark blue kerchief which was folded across her bosom and
exposed a glimpse of her massive throat. Over this kerchief was
suspended a little silver cross. I admired her greatly, and yet with a
large reserve. A certain mild intellectual apathy belonged properly to
her type of beauty, and had always seemed to round and enrich it; but
this _bourgeoise_ Egeria, if I viewed her right, betrayed a rather vulgar
stagnation of mind. There might have been once a dim spiritual light in
her face; but it had long since begun to wane. And furth