The starred cap of
the poppy was actually being shaped under the tool, copied from a
green capsule, surmounted with purple velvety rays, which, together
with its rough and wavy leaf, was held in the hand of a young maiden
who knelt by the table, watching the work with eager interest.
She was not a beautiful girl--not one of those whose "bright eyes
rain influence, and judge the prize." She was too small, too slight,
too retiring for such a position. If there was something lily-like
in her drooping grace, it was not the queen-lily of the garden that
she resembled, but the retiring lily of the valley--so purely,
transparently white was her skin, scarcely tinted by a roseate blush
on the cheek, so tender and modest the whole effect of her slender
figure, and the soft, downcast, pensive brown eyes, utterly
dissimilar in hue from those of all her friends and kindred, except
perhaps the bright, quick ones of her uncle, the master-carver.
Otherwise, his portly form, open visage, and good-natured
stateliness, as well as his furred cap and gold chain, were
thoroughly those of the German burgomaster of the fifteenth century;
but those glittering black eyes had not ceased to betray their
French, or rather Walloon, origin, though for several generations
back the family had been settled at Ulm.
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