Very soon Madame de Pënâfiel took off her cloak, and handed it to the old gentleman. She wore a dress of straw-coloured crêpe, very simply made, and she had a great bouquet of Parma violets in her corsage, and another in her hair, which was caught in bandeaux just below the temples, and then fell in soft curls on her neck and shoulders. Her complexion, which was heightened by the slightest touch of rouge, was perfectly dazzling by lamplight, and her two great, half closed eyes shone under their long black lashes. Hidden behind my curtain, I watched Madame de Pënâfiel through my opera-glasses. The expression of her face was as it had been that morning,--restless, nervous, and even somewhat anxious or weary. She held her head bent over a bouquet of violets, which she pulled to pieces in an absent-minded way. Her companion was a striking contrast to her in every way. Imagine a young girl of not more than eighteen, in the very first bloom of youth. Her countenance was frank and sympathetic, and her features regular. She wore a white dress, and her black hair was parted smoothly over her forehead. Her eyebrows were dark and well defined, and her astonished blue eyes gleamed with the infantile wonder of a young girl who, for the first time, enjoys with pleased and eager curiosity the splendour of scenery and the rapture of music. From time to time, Madame de Pënâfiel would speak to her, scarcely turning her head towards her; the young girl would reply with the greatest deference, though she seemed constrained. As for Madame de Pënâfiel, after having glanced carelessly around the theatre two or three times, she seemed to become perfectly unconscious of the beautiful music of "William Tell," which was being performed that night. She appeared so disdainful, so tired of the sameness of pleasure, her pale face, in spite of its youth and harmonious outline, expressed such indifference and vexation, that I was seized with this conviction, "There is a woman to be pitied." They were near the end of the second act of "William Tell," and were singing the magnificent trio of the Three Swiss. Never had this wondrously powerful _morceau_ been sung with so much spirit and ensemble, never had it created more enthusiasm; the young girl at Madame de Pënâfiel's side bent forward eagerly towards the stage in rapt attention. All at once she raised up her head in a proud and resolute way, as though her gentle and timid soul had involuntarily felt the enthusiasm and bravery which this sublime trio is meant to inspire.