We had returned to the seashore after a long ramble not far from our point of departure, and were passing the battlemented wall of a villa on our way from Beaulieu to Cape Ferrat, when two very fashionably dressed ladies passed us. They were the Duchess of V---- and her daughter, whom we had met the previous Thursday at a ball at the Préfecture. We bowed to them, and disappeared under the olive-trees. The young girl, inquisitive daughter of Eve, turned to look after us, and it seemed to me that a sudden blush crimsoned her cheeks; it was doubtless the reflection of the setting sun's rays. [Illustration] "Perhaps you think," said the artist, also looking back, "that you have diminished my admiration for beauty? No, I appreciate it still more. In it I bow to harmony; and--shall I confess it?--the human body thus considered as the manifestation to the senses of a directing soul seems to me to acquire thence more nobility, more beauty, and more light." [Illustration] V. AD VERITATEM PER SCIENTIAM. I was studying in my library the conditions of life upon the surface of worlds governed and illuminated by suns of different sizes, when glancing at the chimney-piece I was struck with the expression--I had almost said the animation--of my dear Urania's face. It was the gracious, living expression which once--ah! how quickly the earth goes round, and how short a quarter of a century is!--which once--and it seems to me like yesterday--which once--in those youthful days so quickly flown--had attracted my thoughts and inflamed my heart. I could not keep from looking at her again, and resting my eyes on her. Truly, she was still just as beautiful, and my feelings had not changed. She drew me to her as the light draws an insect. I rose from my table to approach her, and see again the singular effect of the daylight on her changing face, and I surprised myself by standing before her, forgetting my work. Her look seemed to be lost in the distance, yet she was looking. At what? I had the firm conviction that she was really looking at something; and following the direction of that fixed, motionless, solemn, although not severe gaze, my eyes went straight to Spero's portrait, hanging there between two book-cases. Really, Urania was looking fixedly at him. [Illustration]