A Parisian Romance — page 86: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A PARISIAN ROMANCE. : 77 half-opened bud nestled in the masses of her dark hair. Her exquisitely modeled neck and her arms as beautifully proportioned as we imagine the lost arms of the Venus of Milo to have been, were un- marred by any jewel or ornament whatever. Her figure was simply perfection, as lithe and proudly poised, as that of a young goddess. Her face was not what could be called handsome, the forehead was too high and the gray eyes were set too closely | together, but it was a face that first interested and finally fascinated. Her dancing was grace itself and possessed, more- over, a distinct stamp of individuality. She danced not only with her feet, but with her brains. There were none of those senseless gyrations, those mean- ingless smirks, those fowrs de force, indulged in by most ballet dancers, but her every action was the result of thought and her whole performance was full of delicate suggestion. It was little wonder that the Parisians, who, frothy and laughter loving as they are, are unrivaled critics in the world of art, had, without a dissenting voice, pronounced her queen of her profession. Baron Chevrial had but slight anivebiation of music, but in the beauties of the female form he was a connoisseur, and all the time that Made- moiselle Guerin was upon the stage, he kept his opera-glass fixed upon her. His applause at the close of her pas seul was enthusiastic, possibly a little too much so, GEomichbookstGeo fal)