The wind entered in slight puffs, rustling the curtains to and fro; but Helene was quite unconscious of it. Yet the shawl had slipped off her shoulders, and her hair had become unwound, with wanton tresses sweeping down to her hips. She had left her arms free and uncovered, that she might be the more ready; and she had forgotten all, absorbed entirely in her love for her child Jeanne. And Dr. Deberle, busy above the child, no longer thought of his unbuttoned coat, or of the shirt-collar Jeanne's clutch had torn away.
"It has all passed away now," said the doctor in a whisper, who had not yet looked at Helene. Now he raised his eyes, and could scarcely refrain from smiling, so hale and hearty was she in every way.
Never had he seen such classical beauty. Tall and commanding, she was a nut-brown Juno, with gleams of gold in her skin and hair. When she slowly turned her head, its profile showed the severe purity of a statue. Her grey eyes and pearly teeth lit up her whole face. But what astonished the doctor was the superbness of her whole figure. She stood there -- a model of queenliness, chastity, and modesty, gazing back at him.
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