The Disowned — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Disowned — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
The youth eyed, with that involuntary respect which personal advantages
always command, the large yet symmetrical proportions of his wild
companion; nor was the face which belonged to that frame much less
deserving of attention. Though not handsome, it was both shrewd and
prepossessing in its expression; the forehead was prominent, the brows
overhung the eyes, which were large, dark, and, unlike those of the
tribe in general, rather calm than brilliant; the complexion, though
sun-burnt, was not swarthy, and the face was carefully and cleanly
shaved, so as to give all due advantage of contrast to the brown
luxuriant locks which fell rather in flakes than curls, on either side
of the healthful and manly cheeks. In age, he was about thirty-five,
and, though his air and mien were assuredly not lofty nor aristocratic,
yet they were strikingly above the bearing of his vagabond companions:
those companions were in all respects of the ordinary race of gypsies;
the cunning and flashing eye, the raven locks, the dazzling teeth, the
bronzed colour, and the low, slight, active form, were as strongly their
distinguishing characteristics as the tokens of all their tribe.
But to these, the appearance of the youth presented a striking and
beautiful contrast.
He had only just passed the stage of boyhood, perhaps he might have
seen eighteen summers, probably not so many. He had, in imitation of his
companion, and perhaps from mistaken courtesy to his new society, doffed
his hat; and the attitude which he had chosen fully developed the noble
and intellectual turn of his head and throat. His hair, as yet preserved
from the disfiguring fashions of the day, was of a deep auburn, which
was rapidly becoming of a more chestnut hue, and curled in short close
curls from the nape of the neck to the commencement of a forehead
singularly white and high. His brows finely and lightly pencilled, and
his long lashes of the darkest dye, gave a deeper and perhaps softer
shade than they otherwise would have worn to eyes quick and observant
in their expression and of a light hazel in their colour. His cheek
was very fair, and the red light of the fire cast an artificial tint of
increased glow upon a complexion that had naturally rather bloom than
colour; while a dark riding frock set off in their full beauty the fine
outline of his chest and the slender symmetry of his frame.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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