Her companion was much younger, not so tall, and of slender form. The
long tresses of her chestnut hair shaded her oval face. Her small,
aquiline nose, bright hazel eyes, delicate mouth, and the deep colour of
her lips, were as remarkable as the transparency of her complexion. The
flush of her cheek was singular; it was of a brilliant pink: you may
find it in the lip of an Indian shell. The blue veins played beneath her
arched forehead, like lightning beneath a rainbow. She was dressed in
white, and a damask rose, half hid in her clustering hair, was her only
ornament. This lovely creature glided by Vivian Grey almost unnoticed,
so fixed was his gaze on her companion. Yet, magnificent as was the
style of Lady Madeleine Trevor, there were few who preferred even her
commanding graces to the softer beauties of Violet Fane.

This party, having passed Vivian, proceeded to the top of the room,
where places had been kept for them. Vivian's eye watched them till they
were lost among surrounding visitors: their peculiar loveliness could
not deceive him.

"English, no doubt," observed he to the Baron; "who can they be?"

"I have not the least idea; that is, I do not exactly know. I think they
are English," answered the Baron, in so confused a manner that Vivian
rather stared. After musing a moment, the Baron recovered himself.

"The unexpected sight of a face we feel that we know, and yet cannot
immediately recognise, is extremely annoying; it is almost agitating.
They are English. The lady in black is Lady Madeleine Trevor; I knew her
in London."