Not a single soul could know of my whereabouts or the identity
of the present hermit of Monte Orsaro.
The pair advanced, leaving the troop below to await their return, and as
they came I considered them, as did, too, the multitude.
The man was of middle height, very broad and active, with long arms, to one
of which the little lady clung for help up the steep path. He had a proud,
stern aquiline face that was shaven, so that the straight lines of his
strong mouth and powerful length of jaw looked as if chiselled out of
stone. It was only at closer quarters that I observed how the general
hardness of that countenance was softened by the kindliness of his deep
brown eyes. In age I judged him to be forty, though in reality he was
nearer fifty.
The little lady at his side was the daintiest maid that I had ever seen.
The skin, white as a water-lily, was very gently flushed upon her cheeks;
the face was delicately oval; the little mouth, the tenderest in all the
world; the forehead low and broad, and the slightly slanting eyes--when she
raised the lashes that hung over them like long shadows--were of the deep
blue of sapphires. Her dark brown hair was coifed in a jewelled net of
thread of gold, and on her white neck a chain of emeralds sparkled
sombrely. Her close-fitting robe and her mantle were of the hue of bronze,
and the light shifted along the silken fabric as she moved, so that it
gleamed like metal.
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