Her eyes were dark and brilliant as ever.

The clear features of her face were framed in the roll of her heavy locks, as I had seen them last.

Her garb, as usual, betokened luxury.

She was robed as though for some fete, all in white satin, and pale blue fires of stones shone faintly at throat and wrist.

Contrast enough she made to me, clad in smoke-browned tunic of buck, with the leggings and moccasins of a savage, my belt lacking but prepared for weapons.
I had not time to puzzle over the question of her errand here, why or whence she had come, or what she purposed doing.