A certain mild intellectual apathy belonged properly to
her type of beauty, and had always seemed to round and enrich it; but
this _bourgeoise_ Egeria, if I viewed her right, betrayed a rather vulgar
stagnation of mind. There might have been once a dim spiritual light in
her face; but it had long since begun to wane. And furthermore, in plain
prose, she was growing stout. My disappointment amounted very nearly to
complete disenchantment when Theobald, as if to facilitate my covert
inspection, declaring that the lamp was very dim, and that she would ruin
her eyes without more light, rose and fetched a couple of candles from
the mantelpiece, which he placed lighted on the table. In this brighter
illumination I perceived that our hostess was decidedly an elderly woman.
She was neither haggard, nor worn, nor gray; she was simply coarse. The
"soul" which Theobald had promised seemed scarcely worth making such a
point of; it was no deeper mystery than a sort of matronly mildness of
lip and brow. I should have been ready even to declare that that
sanctified bend of the head was nothing more than the trick of a person
constantly working at embroidery.
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