And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. Give me this picture. To Ah Cum, who was watching her covertly, the smile was like a bit of unexpected sunshine. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly.
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