She threw it over her shoulders, bringing the grinning head over her
hair and holding the forepaws in her pointed white fingers. She came
very near to Gouache and looked into his eyes, her closed lips smiling.
"Admirable!" exclaimed Gouache. "It is impossible to tell where the
woman ends and the tiger begins. Let me draw you like that."
"Oh no! Not for anything in the world."
She turned away quickly and dropped the skin from her shoulders.
"You will not stay a little longer? You will not let me try?" Gouache
seemed disappointed.
"Impossible," she answered, putting on her hat and beginning to arrange
her veil before a mirror.
Orsino watched her as she stood, her arms uplifted, in an attitude which
is almost always graceful, even for an otherwise ungraceful woman.
Madame d'Aragona was perhaps a little too short, but she was justly
proportioned and appeared to be rather slight, though the tight-fitting
sleeves of her frock betrayed a remarkably well turned arm. Not seeing
her face, one might not have singled her out of many as a very striking
woman, for she had neither the stateliness of Orsino's mother, nor the
enchanting grace which distinguished Gouache's wife.
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