She sat erect, turning slightly toward the lamp for better light, unconsciously showing as she did so the beauty of her waist and bust.

She was already dressed for the night in a long robe of white cotton; a cambric cap, without other ornament than a frill of the same, confined her hair.

Though evidently plunged in some inward meditation, she counted without a mistake the threads of her napkins or the meshes of her socks.

Sitting thus, she presented the most complete image, the truest type, of the woman destined for terrestrial labor, whose glance may piece the clouds of the sanctuary while her thought, humble and charitable, keeps her ever on the level of man.
Wilfrid had flung himself into a chair between the two tables and was contemplating with a species of intoxication this picture full of harmony, to which the clouds of smoke did no despite.

The single window which lighted the parlor during the fine weather was now carefully closed.