Bressant stared at her in astonishment.
One woman's beauty cannot be contrasted with another's; as well compare a summer valley with the white clouds sailing over it; each is to be enjoyed in its own way.

But Cornelia's loveliness carried with it a peculiar quality, which not only gratified the eye, but went further, and seemed to touch a vital chord in the beholder, jarring throughout his being with a sweet distribution of effect, and causing heart and voice to vibrate.

It made Bressant conscious in every fibre that he was man and she woman.

Whence came the influence he could not tell, and meanwhile it gained ever stronger and deeper hold upon him.

Was it from the eyes, a-sparkle with the essence of youth and health?
or from the mouth, with its red warmth of full yet delicate curves?
the gates of what sweetness of breath! or from the crisp, dark, lustreless luxuriance of the hair?
or from the curved shadows melting on the cheeks, and nestling beneath the chin?
He could trace it to no single one of these various elements--yet how lovely all were! Whence, then, was it?
In a bottle of wine there are many drops, alike in color, shape, flavor, and sparkle; in which one, of all, lurks the intoxication?
The only way to make sure of the drop is to drink the bottle; and, even then, though there will be no doubt about the intoxication, its precise origin may still be disputed.
As Bressant bowed to Cornelia, who courtesied grandly in return, the band struck up a waltz, which seemed to be at once reflected in her face and manner.