He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. I have told you.
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