Sophie Roban had, if you examined her strictly, nothing that could be called beauty, except a graceful, delicate figure, though connoisseurs would have objected to her arms as too thin, and a pair of large, soft, deep-blue eyes, of which connoisseur and ignoramus spoke with equal delight. Her mouth is rather large, and it is fortunate for her that her teeth, which are in consequence seen very frequently, are, if not literally "two rows of pearls," at least beautifully white and regular The cheeks are round and full, the nose belongs to no special category. The best feature of the whole is, probably, next to the large blue eyes, the abundance of chestnut-brown hair, which forms a frame of soft waves for the somewhat low but smooth and most intelligent brow, and is very artlessly but tastefully arranged. Sophie is so tall that Franz, who is above medium size, scarcely rises a head's length above her--a proof, as Sophie says, that she has some claims to be counted among Jean Paul's "lofty beings," an opinion which Franz is by no means disposed to accept. He says, on the contrary, that she falls short, if not in everything, yet in much of that great honor, especially in that exuberance in thought and sentiment which the author requires for "lofty beings," and of which Sophie has not a trace, unless it be when she plays on the piano, and the genius of Beethoven, her favorite composer, lends her soul the wings which are otherwise wanting. Franz mentions besides, in his diagnosis of his betrothed, a certain cool sobriety of views and judgment, a kind of shyness to go beyond her own self, and a mistrust of all who do not possess this shyness and are too ready to sing their own praises or their own complaints, without inquiring whether the gods have given them a talent for stating what they suffer or not. Sophie, on the contrary, is disposed to be very quiet in moments of great enjoyment or great sorrow, on which account Franz prefers classing her with Jean Paul's "silent children of heaven." Besides, he attributes to Sophie the following qualities and peculiarities, all of which are more or less incompatible with the character of "lofty beings." She is particularly fond, he says, of canary birds, dogs, tree-frogs, rabbits, horses, and even of donkeys, which evidently shows a predilection for Dutch pictures of still life; she betrays a highly improper indifference for literature, unworthy of the daughter of a man of science, and the betrothed of a man who may possibly yet become famous in the world; she will not condescend to use a dictionary, even in cases of necessity, when she reads French or English authors; and as to the productions of her mother tongue, her indifference is so great that she has actually dared to fall fast asleep when Franz has been reading to her aloud the most beautiful chapters from Goethe's Truth and Fiction or his Italian Journey. Then she has a decided fancy for putting on her hat on one side, and to