--
Miss Byron, madam, addressing himself to her, salutes you. The
advantages of person are her least perfection.
Her face glowed. Miss Byron, said she, in French, is all loveliness. A
relation, sir? in Italian.
He bowed; but answered not her question.
I would sooner forgive you here, whispered Lady Olivia to Sir Charles, in
Italian, looking at me, than at Bologna.
I heard her; and by my confusion shewed that I understood her. She was
in confusion too.
Mademoiselle, said she, in French, understands Italian.--I am ashamed,
monsieur.
Miss Byron does, answered Sir Charles; and French too.
I must have the honour, said she in French, to be better known to you,
mademoiselle.
I answered her as politely as I could in the same language.
Lady OLIVIA is really a lovely woman. Her complexion is fine. Her face
oval. Every feature of it is delicate. Her hair is black; and, I think,
I never saw brighter black eyes in my life: if possible, they are
brighter, and shine with a more piercing lustre, than even Sir Charles
Grandison's: but yet I give his the preference; for we see in them a
benignity, that hers, though a woman's, has not; and a thoughtfulness, as
if something lay upon his mind, which nothing but patience could
overcome; yet mingled with an air that shews him to be equal to any
thing, that can be undertaken by man. While Olivia's eyes shew more fire
and impetuosity than sweetness.
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