"Can it be
possible that she is ugly?" he thought to himself; "this obstinate
clinging to the mask alarms me." But his uncertainty was of short
duration, for the lady, advancing to the centre of the room, where
Leander stood respectfully awaiting her pleasure, untied the strings
of the mask, took it off, and threw it down on the table, disclosing a
rather pretty face, with tolerably regular features, large, brilliant,
brown eyes, and smiling red lips. Her rich masses of dark hair were
elaborately dressed, with one long curl hanging down upon her neck, and
enhancing its whiteness by contrast; the uncovered shoulders were plump
and shapely, and the full, snowy bosom rose and fell tumultuously under
the cloud of beautifully fine lace that veiled, not concealed, its
voluptuous curves.
"Mme. la Marquise de Bruyeres!" cried Leander, astonished to the highest
degree, and not a little agitated, as the remembrance of his last, and
first, attempt to meet her, and what he had found in her place, rushed
back upon him; "can it be possible? am I dreaming? or may I dare to
believe in such unhoped-for, transcendent happiness?"
"Yes; you are not mistaken, my dear friend," said she, "I am indeed the
Marquise de Bruyeres, and recognised, I trust, by your heart as well as
your eyes.
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