She herself looked prettily, with her
jaunty little velvet cap on the side of her head, whence came clustering
out, her short brown curls; her face full of pleasant life and quick
expression; and though somewhat worn with thought and struggle, handsome
and spirited. She told us that "her wig was growing as gray as a rat."
There were but very few things in the room; two or three plaster busts, a
headless cast of a plaster statue, and a cast of the Minerva Medica,
which perhaps she had been studying as a help towards the design of her
Zenobia; for, at any rate, I seemed to discern a resemblance or analogy
between the two. Zenobia stood in the centre of the room, as yet
unfinished in the clay, but a very noble and remarkable statue indeed,
full of dignity and beauty. It is wonderful that so brisk a woman could
have achieved a work so quietly impressive; and there is something in
Zenobia's air that conveys the idea of music, uproar, and a great throng
all about her; whilst she walks in the midst of it, self-sustained, and
kept in a sort of sanctity by her native pride.
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