I have not yet attempted to describe them. The gentleman was a fine-looking old fellow of sixty or thereabouts, with ruddy cheeks, black eyes, and a broad white beard. He appeared to be, and evidently was, a well to-do English squire. The young lady, his daughter, is not so easily to be disposed of; in fact, it is folly to attempt describing her at all. Her father's face, though of a fine type, had nothing in it peculiar or remarkable; hers, on the contrary, was a face which, once seen, could never be forgotten or confounded with any other. Its contour was at once strong and delicate; and the maidenly dignity of the expression was tempered by the scarcely subdued sparkle of frolicsome spirits in the long blue eyes. Of crisp, golden-brown hair she had more than she well knew what to do with; it was packed and twisted all over her lovely head, with little regard to fashionable effect, but with a result of lavish splendour which I was unfashionable enough to prefer. Her complexion was darker than the colour of her eyes warranted; it had a glowing depth and intensity that Titian would have loved to imitate; so that, although you would not have called her cheek high-coloured, it made all other women's cheeks look dull and ineffectual. Her lips were clear red, and unspoken eloquence dwelt in their curves. In figure she was tall, alert, and somewhat slender. Inadequate as I perceive this attempt at portraiture to be, I scarcely needed a glance at her, as she sat at that neighbouring table, to inform myself of every detail of her appearance. Her image seemed to have been present to my inner consciousness before I met her--to employ a metaphysical periphrasis for what was to me a very certain and definite fact. An hour previous to our encounter before the Porzellan Handlung, I could have taken my pencil and sketched the outline of her features as accurately as now that she was before me. The only difference between her and this strange anticipation of her (or whatever it was) in my mind was, as I now had leisure to observe, that her hair and eyes were a good many shades lighter than those of my forecast. The eyes that I had thought of were dark grey, almost black, and the crisp locks a deep lustreless brown.