Her cheeks were white with powder, her lips dyed a pomegranate scarlet, her eyebrows and lashes blackened.

In her ears she wore large silver-gilt earrings.

She entered the room with an air of triumph, as who should say: "See how captivatingly beautiful I am!" At my stare of horror her face fell.

At my command to go upstairs and wash herself clean, she wept.
"For heaven's sake, don't cry," I exclaimed, "or you will look like a rainbow." "I did it to please you," she sobbed.
"It is only the lowest class of dancing-women who paint their faces in England," said I, _splendide mendax._ "And you know what they are in Alexandretta." "They came to Aziza-Zaza's wedding," said Carlotta, behind her handkerchief.

"But all our ladies do this when they want to make themselves look nice.