faces, and which had so shocked our masters. Peaceful mildness gave
charm to his face, an exquisite serenity that was never marred by a
tinge of irony or satire; for his natural kindliness tempered his
conscious strength and superiority. He had pretty hands, very slender,
and almost always moist. His frame was a marvel, a model for a
sculptor; but our iron-gray uniform, with gilt buttons and
knee-breeches, gave us such an ungainly appearance that Lambert's fine
proportions and firm muscles could only be appreciated in the bath.
When we swam in our pool in the Loire, Louis was conspicuous by the
whiteness of his skin, which was unlike the different shades of our
schoolfellows' bodies mottled by the cold, or blue from the water.
Gracefully formed, elegant in his attitudes, delicate in hue, never
shivering after his bath, perhaps because he avoided the shade and
always ran into the sunshine, Louis was like one of those cautious
blossoms that close their petals to the blast and refuse to open
unless to a clear sky. He ate little, and drank water only; either by
instinct or by choice he was averse to any exertion that made a demand
on his strength; his movements were few and simple, like those of
Orientals or of savages, with whom gravity seems a condition of
nature.

As a rule, he disliked everything that resembled any special care for
his person. He commonly sat with his head a little inclined to the
left, and so constantly rested his elbows on the table, that the
sleeves of his coats were soon in holes.

To this slight picture of the outer man I must add a sketch of his
moral qualities, for I believe I can now judge him impartially.

Though naturally religious, Louis did not accept the minute practices