Quotation from: Villette

Written by: Charlotte Bronte


Once more I lay down. My bed stood in a little alcove; on turning my
face to the wall, the room with its bewildering accompaniments became
excluded. Excluded? No! For as I arranged my position in this hope,
behold, on the green space between the divided and looped-up curtains,
hung a broad, gilded picture-frame enclosing a portrait. It was drawn
--well drawn, though but a sketch--in water-colours; a head, a boy's
head, fresh, life-like, speaking, and animated. It seemed a youth of
sixteen, fair-complexioned, with sanguine health in his cheek; hair
long, not dark, and with a sunny sheen; penetrating eyes, an arch
mouth, and a gay smile. On the whole a most pleasant face to look at,
especially for, those claiming a right to that youth's affections--
parents, for instance, or sisters. Any romantic little school-girl
might almost have loved it in its frame. Those eyes looked as if when
somewhat older they would flash a lightning-response to love: I cannot
tell whether they kept in store the steady-beaming shine of faith. For
whatever sentiment met him in form too facile, his lips menaced,
beautifully but surely, caprice and light esteem.

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Old Dominion University CS Dept
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