She is "Lucilla" when my memory dwells on her.

Let me call her "Lucilla" here.
When my eyes first rested on her, she was picking off the dead leaves from her flowers.

Her delicate ear detected the sound of my strange footstep, long before I reached the place at which she was standing.

She lifted her head--and advanced quickly to meet me with a faint flush on her face, which came and died away again in a moment.

I happen to have visited the picture gallery at Dresden in former years.