Another character now enters upon the scene, looking cautiously about
him at every step, as if he feared an unpleasant surprise. This is
Leander, the horror of fathers, husbands, and guardians, the delight of
wives, daughters, and wards--in one word, the lover--the very beau-ideal
of a lover; young, handsome, ardent, ready for anything, winning
over strict old duennas, bribing pert waiting-maids, climbing up
rope-ladders, overcoming every obstacle to reach the fair mistress
of his affections, and kneeling at her feet to pour out burning
protestations of love and devotion, that no mortal woman could ever
resist. Suddenly perceiving that Pandolphe is here, where he only
expected to find Isabelle, Leander stops and throws himself into an
attitude, which he has frequently practised before the mirror,
and which, he flatters himself, shows his handsome person to great
advantage; standing with his weight thrown upon the left leg, the right
one advanced and slightly bent at the knee; one hand on the hilt of his
sword, the other stroking his chin, so as to make the big diamond on his
finger flash in the light, and a slight smile playing about his lips. He
really did look very handsome as he stood there, and was greatly admired
by all the ladies--even the haughty Yolande herself not disdaining to
smile upon him approvingly.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131