His robe, thrown back, revealed the neck of an athlete or a bull, round as a section of a column, without apparent muscles, and of a satiny whiteness which contrasted with the deeper hue of his face. At this time, Balzac, in the prime of his life, gave the impression of a robust health, little in harmony with the romantic pallors then in fashion. The pure Tourainian blood left his cheeks a bright purple and warmly colored his lips, thick and sinuous, easy to laugh; a light mustache and a small beard just below his lower lip accentuated the contours of his mouth, without concealing them; the nose, square at the end, divided into two lobes, pierced by very open nostrils, of a character entirely original and unique; Balzac, in posing for his bust, told the sculptor, David d'Angers, "Be careful about my nose, my nose is a world!" The forehead was beautiful, vast, noble, much whiter than the face, with no creases other than a perpendicular furrow along the ridge of the nose; there was a very pronounced ridge above the eyebrows; the hair, abundant, long, strong and black, stood up in back like a lion's mane. As for the eyes, there have never existed anything comparable. They had a life, a light, an inconceivable magnetism. Despite the nightly vigils, their whites were pure, limpid, bluish, like that of a child or a virgin, and encased two black diamonds that shined at times with rich reflections of gold: they were eyes to make eagles avert their gaze, to penetrate walls and hearts, to strike down a furious wild beast, the eyes of the sovereign, the seer, the conqueror. Mme. Emile de Girardin, in her novel entitled La Canne de M. de Balzac, speaks of these shining eyes: "Tancred then perceived at the front of the club, turquoise, gold, marvelous carvings; and behind all of that two large black eyes more brilliant than the stones." Those extraordinary eyes, once one had met their gaze, made it difficult to notice other features that might have been trivial or irregular. The habitual expression of the face was a sort of powerful hilarity, a Rabelaisian and monkish joy — the robe no doubt contributing to the birth of this idea — which made you think of Brother Jean des Entommeures, but it was enlarged and elevated by a mind of the first order.