She had little time to devote to her toilette,
but this huge chignon, hastily contrived without the aid of any mirror,
was often instinct with vigorous grace. On seeing her thus naturally
helmeted with a mass of frizzy hair which hung about her neck and
temples like a mane, one could readily understand why she always went
bareheaded, heedless alike of rain and frost.
Under her dark locks appeared her low forehead, curved and golden like a
crescent moon. Her large prominent eyes, her short tip-tilted nose with
dilated nostrils, and her thick ruddy lips, when regarded apart from one
another, would have looked ugly; viewed, however, all together, amidst
the delightful roundness and vivacious mobility of her countenance, they
formed an ensemble of strange, surprising beauty. When Miette laughed,
throwing back her head and gently resting it on her right shoulder, she
resembled an old-time Bacchante, her throat distending with sonorous
gaiety, her cheeks round like those of a child, her teeth large and
white, her twists of woolly hair tossed by every outburst of merriment,
and waving like a crown of vine leaves. To realise that she was only a
child of thirteen, one had to notice the innocence underlying her full
womanly laughter, and especially the child-like delicacy of her chin and
soft transparency of her temples. In certain lights Miette's sun-tanned
face showed yellow like amber. A little soft black down already shaded
her upper lip.
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