He stood for some minutes contemplating this portrait, so different
from her in age now, yet so like in look and expression. He turned
suddenly and saw Amelie; she had silently stepped up behind him, and
her features in a glow of pleasure took on the very look of the
picture.
Pierre started. He looked again, and saw every feature of the girl
of twelve looking through the transparent countenance of the perfect
woman of twenty. It was a moment of blissful revelation, for he
felt an assurance at that moment that Amelie was the same to him now
as in their days of youthful companionship. "How like it is to you
yet, Amelie!" said he; "it is more true than I knew how to make it!"
"That sounds like a paradox, Pierre Philibert!" replied she, with a
smile. "But it means, I suppose, that you painted a universal
portrait of me which will be like through all my seven ages. Such a
picture might be true of the soul, Pierre, had you painted that, but
I have outgrown the picture of my person."
"I could imagine nothing fairer than that portrait! In soul and
body it is all true, Amelie.
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