But now remembering her mountain carol, he chanced to speak of her as a girl.
'She is a girl ?' cried Lord Fleetwood, frowning over an utter revolution of sentiment at the thought of the beautiful Gorgon being a girl; for, rapid as he was to imagine, he had raised a solid fabric upon his conception of Carinthia the woman, necessarily the woman--logically.
Who but the woman could look the Gorgon! He tried to explain it to be impossible for a girl to wear the look: and his notion evidently was, that it had come upon a beautiful face in some staring horror of a world that had bitten the tender woman.

She touched him sympathetically through the pathos.
Woodseer flung out vociferously for the contrary.

Who but a girl could look the beautiful Gorgon! What other could seem an emanation of the mountain solitude?
A woman would instantly breathe the world on it to destroy it.

Hers would be the dramatic and not the poetic face.

It would shriek of man, wake the echoes with the tale of man, slaughter all.
quietude.