The Wistful Melancholy of the Slave

Her face was framed by a mass of soft, fair hair shot with strands of gold where the sunlight fell on it. Her skin was clear with the transparent lustre of old porcelain and her pale cheeks were only tinted with the pink of the faintest roses. A lover of beauty would have been at a loss whether more to admire eclear dramander eyes, so melting and so adorable,. or the sensitive mouth with its rather full lips, inviting all the kisses. But assuredly, he would have been grieved by the perpetual air of sadness which rested on the beautiful face.