Figure to yourself, Madam, a fair stripling, between eighteen and nineteen, with his head reclind on one of the sides of the chair, his hair in disorderd curls, irregularly shading a face on which all the roseate bloom of youth and all the manly graces conspired to fix my eyes and heart. Even the languor and paleness of his face, in which the momentary triumph of the lily over the rose was owing to the excesses of the night, gave an inexpressible sweetness to the finest features imaginable
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