Now it seems to me that before I proceed further I ought to set down in writing a character of Madam Heliodora as she appeared at this time, for the sake of those that don’t enjoy the felicity of her acquaintance, or that have known her only in the time of change and adversity. This lady, Madam Frances Mary Louise (I don’t know how to render this last name in English, for it an’t used among us, though very common in France) Anne Amanda Heliodora, daughter and only child to his lordship the most noble Gasper Deodatus, Marquis of Tourvel, and Madam Mary Margaret of Cheverenches, his wife, was born in the early part of the year 1645-46, and though thus no longer in the first bloom of her youth, preserved such an admirable beauty as might well make envious many younger dames. In stature, she was above the common height of women, but so just and excellent a proportion was observable in every several part of her frame as made her figure to seem absolutely perfect. Her eyes were brown, large and melting, her hair of a most lovely brown, tending to black, her skin of a marble whiteness not often seen by us in England. I might go on to write down every feature and describe its beauties, for all were beautiful; but when all is said, ’twas not so much the beauty of the several parts as the sweet and beautiful spirit of the lady herself that shone through and illuminated them with a double loveliness. There was in all her motions so exquisite a grace as drew your eyes to her irresistibly, so that did she but lift a glass from the table you were forced to look at her and admire, yet not so much for the beauty of her hand and arm (though these were the finest imaginable) as for the elegance of the action itself. Her constitution[92] was extreme devout, and a little inclined to sadness, yet in time of need she could display so indomitable a courage as I have never seen equalled. Of her kindness and goodness it would ill become me, who have profited so much by ’em, to say naught, and yet to describe them fitly were equally difficult, so that I can only say that both were excessive. At this time she was something wont, as Mad. de Chesnac complained, to affect a certain singularity and strangeness in her dress and carriage, choosing to dress herself in sad colours when she so could, and to resign herself to overmuch musing. But this, as it seems to me, is fully accounted for when all is known touching her, which won’t be yet for you, even as it wan’t for me.