"
At last he saw Francesca, but without being seen by her. The Princess
was standing quite near the piano. Her beautiful hair, so thick and
long, was bound with a golden fillet. Her face, in the light of wax
candles, had the brilliant pallor peculiar to Italians, and which
looks its best only by artificial light. She was in full evening
dress, showing her fascinating shoulders, the figure of a girl and the
arms of an antique statue. Her sublime beauty was beyond all possible
rivalry, though there were some charming women of Geneva, and other
Italians, among them the dazzling and illustrious Princess Varese, and
the famous singer Tinti, who was at that moment singing.
Rodolphe, leaning against the door-post, looked at the Princess,
turning on her the fixed, tenacious, attracting gaze, charged with the
full, insistent will which is concentrated in the feeling called
desire, and thus assumes the nature of a vehement command. Did the
flame of that gaze reach Francesca? Was Francesca expecting each
instant to see Rodolphe? In a few minutes she stole a glance at the
door, as though magnetized by this current of love, and her eyes,
without reserve, looked deep into Rodolphe's. A slight thrill quivered
through that superb face and beautiful body; the shock to her spirit
reacted: Francesca blushed! Rodolphe felt a whole life in this
exchange of looks, so swift that it can only be compared to a
lightning flash.
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