Then she saw his prominent blue eyes, blinking before the excess of light, glassy, without thought, resembling the eyes of the dead.
"Is that the hostage with whom Vinicius is in love ?" asked he, turning to Petronius.
"That is she," answered Petronius.
"What are her people called ?" "The Lygians." "Does Vinicius think her beautiful ?" "Array a rotten olive trunk in the peplus of a woman, and Vinicius will declare it beautiful.

But on thy countenance, incomparable judge, I read her sentence already.

Thou hast no need to pronounce it! The sentence is true: she is too dry, thin, a mere blossom on a slender stalk; and thou, O divine aesthete, esteemest the stalk in a woman.

Thrice and four times art thou right! The face alone does not signify.

I have learned much in thy company, but even now I have not a perfect cast of the eye.