It was as an evening shade upon the bloom of
morning; but one felt that it was a protecting shade, sheltering but
not withering her youth, beauty, and innocence. The features of this
celebrated man were regular as the pure outline of antique profiles
which time emaciates slightly, but cannot impair. His blue eyes had
that softened but penetrating expression of worn-out sight, as if they
looked through a slight haze. There was an arch expression of implied
meaning in his mouth; and his smile was playful as that of a father to
his little children. His hair, which age and study had thinned, was
soft and fine, like the down of a swan. His hands were white and taper
as the marble hands of the statue of Seneca taking his dying leave of
Paulina. There were no wrinkles on his face, which had become thin and
pale from the long labor of the mind, for it had never been plump. A
few blue and bloodless veins might be traced on the depressed temples;
the light of the fire was reflected on the forehead,--that latest
beauty of man, which thought chisels and polishes unceasingly.
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