She is almost naked; in the heat of the dance her veils have fallen away and her brocade robes slipped to the floor, so that now she is clad only in wrought metals and translucent gems. A gorgerin grips her waist like a corselet, and like an outsized clasp a wondrous jewel sparkles and flashes in the cleft between her breasts; lower down, a girdle encircles her hips, hiding the upper part of her thighs, […]

The lady who was then in charge of the school, manifested a kindful feeling towards her, and imparted the best …

The times are changed, said De Joinville, in a low tone to Francesca, since Mademoiselle promenaded the terraces of the Louvre, with her fan ornamented with bunches of straw tied with blue riband, and half Paris shouting at the sight.

He’d skipped breakfast—didn’t like the idea of boaking it back up on the flight.