‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. "You forget that you promised me a kiss the last time you were here. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. His expression became pained. Taking the wind was her business in life. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it.
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