The cloistered life she led, the debilitating regimen to which she found herself subjected, failed to weaken her thin, robust form.

Only her face took a pale, and even a slightly yellowish tint, making her look almost ugly in the shade.

Ever and anon she went to the window, and contemplated the opposite houses on which the sun threw sheets of gold.
When Madame Raquin sold her business, and withdrew to the little place beside the river, Therese experienced secret thrills of joy.

Her aunt had so frequently repeated to her: "Don't make a noise; be quiet," that she kept all the impetuosity of her nature carefully concealed within her.

She possessed supreme composure, and an apparent tranquillity that masked terrible transports.