Notwithstanding its density too, it was perfectly light, each hair
seeming to stand apart as if permeated by and breathing the air. Her
conversation revealed keen intelligence and a delicate mind, much
refinement of taste and pleasure in the aesthetic. She possessed abundant
and varied culture, a vivid imagination, and the rich, descriptive
language of one who has seen many lands, lived under widely different
climes, known many people. To Andrea, she seemed to exhale some exotic
charm, some strange fascination, some spell born of the phantoms of the
far off things she had looked upon, the scenes she still preserved
before her mind's eye, the memories that filled her soul; as if she
still bore about her some traces of the sunshine she had basked in, the
perfumes she had inhaled, the strange dialects she had heard--all the
magic of these countries of the Sun.
That evening, in the great room opening off the hall, she went over to
the piano, and opening it, she said: 'Do you still play, Francesca?'
'Oh, no,' replied the Marchesa, 'I have not practised for years. I feel
that listening to others is decidedly preferable. However, I affect to
be a patroness of Art, and during the winter I gladly preside at the
execution of a little good music. Is that not so, Andrea?'
'My cousin is too modest, Donna Maria; she does something more than
merely patronise--she is a reviver of good taste.
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