He wore a magnificent costume of rich white satin, slashed and
trimmed with crimson, with many knots of ribbon about it fastened with
diamond clasps, with broad ruffles of exquisitely fine lace at throat
and wrists, with a wide belt of cloth of silver supporting his sword,
and with perfumed gloves on the hands that held his white felt hat, with
its long crimson feather. His wavy black hair fell around the perfect
oval of his face, enhancing its smooth whiteness; a delicate mustache
shaded, not concealed, his full red lips; his splendid, great black
eyes flashed through their thick, silky fringes, and his neck, white
and round as a marble column, rose from amid its surrounding of soft,
priceless lace, proudly supporting his haughty, handsome head. Yet with
all this perfection of outline and colouring, his appearance was
not entirely pleasing; a repelling haughtiness shone out through the
perfectly modelled features, and it was but too evident that the joys
and sorrows of his fellow mortals would awaken no sympathy in the owner
of that surpassingly handsome face and form. He believed that he was not
made of common clay like other men, but was a being of a higher order,
who condescended to mingle with his inferiors--a piece of fine porcelain
amid homely vessels of coarser earthenware.
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