"And who is that ridiculous being with the coiffure a la Matignon?"
"That is yourself."
"I!" exclaimed she, quickly advancing to the mirror. But suddenly she retreated in alarm. "Gracious Heaven! it comes so fast that it will throw me down. "Then she stopped for a moment and laughed. "See," said she, "the girl is as cowardly as myself. The farther I step back the farther she retreats also."
"All this is an optical delusion, Therese. The girl is nothing but a reflection, a picture of yourself in the mirror."
"True, I forgot. You told me that just now," replied Therese, drawing her hand wearily across her forehead. "Well, let me contemplate myself. This, then, is my likeness," said she, musing. "My mother was mistaken. This face is not handsome. It is weary and soulless. Come, master, I have enough of it—let me see the heavens."
"Wait until I draw the curtain to see whether you are able to bear the full light of day."
The curtain was lifted, and Therese, giving a scream, hid her eyes.
"Oh, it cuts like the point of a dagger!" cried she.
"I thought so; you will have to become gradually accustomed to it. You shall see the sky this evening. But now you must suffer me to bind up your eyes, for they must have rest." [Footnote: The description of Therese's impressions, and the words she used upon the recovery of her sight, are not imaginary. They are all cited by Justinus Kerner, and were related to him by her own father.]