nd spears, and sundials, and many
other designs equally intelligible and portentous.

Soon the Madame appeared, and the attention of the Individual was
immediately diverted from surrounding objects and riveted on the
incomprehensible woman who was "no humbug," and who, according to
her own opinion of herself, would have exactly realized Mr. Edmund
Sparkler's idea of a "dem'd fine woman, with nobigodnonsense about her."

On the first glance, Madame Clifton is what would be called
"fine-looking," but she does not analyse well. She is of medium
height, aged about thirty-five years, with very light, piercing
blue eyes, and very black hair, one little lock of which is
precisely twisted into a very elaborate little curl, which rests
in the middle of her forehead between her eyes, as if to keep
those quarrelsome orbs apart. Her eyebrows are unusually heavy,
so much so as to give a curious menacing look to the upper part
of her face, which disagreeable expression is intensified by the
extreme paleness of her countenance.

Her dress was unassuming, neat, and tasteful, save in the one
article of jewelry, of which she wore as much as if the stock in
trade at the Broadway perfumery store had been pearls, and gold,
and diamonds, instead of perfumes and essences. Her deportment
was self-possessed and lady-like, that is, if an expression of
tireless watchfulness and unsleeping suspicion are consistent
with refined and easy manners. She never took her steel-blue eyes
from her visitor's face; she did not for an instant relax her
confident smile; she did not speak but in the lowest softest
tones; but her auditor felt every instant more convinced that the
voice was the falsest voice he ever heard, the smile the falsest
smile he ever saw, and that the cold piercing eye alone was
true, and that was only true because no art could conceal its
calculating glitter.

If one could imagine a smiling cat, Madame Clifton would resemble
that cat more than any one thing in the world. Neat and precise
in her outward appearance; not a fold of her garments, not a
thread of lace or ribbon, not a hair of her head, but was exactly
smooth and orderly, and in its exact place; not a glance of her
eye that was not watchful and suspicious; not a tone or word that
was not treacherous in sound; not a movement of body or of limb
that was not soft and stealthy; her feline resemblances developed
themselves more and more every instant, until at last the
Individ