"Handsome, but proud, along with tenderness."
"How did she act during the royal ceremony?"
"She peeped out of her window, hiding in the curtains, and examined everybody as though she feared to see an enemy."
"Some member of the class which I have reigned over. What is her name?"
"Lorenza Feliciani."
"I know of no person of that name, but show her in."
Princess Louise sat in an ancient oak chair, carved in the reign of Henri II. and used by nine Carmelite abbesses. Before this seat of justice many poor novices had quailed between spiritual and temporal power.
A moment following the treasurer returned, ushering in the foreigner whom we know; she wore a long veil. With the piercing eye of her race, Princess Louise studied Lorenza on her entering the closet; but her hostile feelings became sisterly and benevolent on seeing so much grace and humility in the visitor, so much sublime beauty, and, in short, so much innocence in the large black eyes wet with tears.
The princess prevented her dropping on her knees.
"Draw near and speak," said she. "Are you called Lorenza Feliciani?"