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Updated: June 25, 2025
He remembered with some self-gratulation those hours spent with her in the blue Runaway with its silver fittings; Roselle in her fur coat and the purple velvet hat crushed close, in a cheeky fashion, over her night-black hair; and people turning to look at them both. He had seen in men's faces as they passed that they thought him a lucky fellow.
And there I saw the prettiest girl I ever beheld, gazing down at a book tranquilly, as though gentlemanly rescuers were common as toads around that tower. She wore something soft and golden; her hair was night-black, and her eyes were that peculiar shade of gray that but what's the use? "Pardon," I said, holding on with my right hand, lifting my hat with my left.
"Jesús Maria! Een my heart it is like the singing of leetle birdies. Mira, señor. My flowers bloomin' the brighter, already no?" Bud Lee paused. "So you know Miss Sanford then?" he asked. José threw out his hands and opened his night-black eyes to their most enormous extent. "Do I know God?" he demanded. "Well," smiled Bud, "as to that. . . ."
A wall of gigantic Southern cane hid the boundary fence, and above it the night-black pines of the forest towered, their breezy monotone answering the roar of the hundred stamps below the hill. A few young pines stood apart on a knoll, a later extension of the garden, ungraded and covered with pine-needles.
She was, probably, forty; yet, in the full and faultless perfection of her form in her graceful and yielding motions in her statuesque bust, rounded cheek and night-black hair, she would, to the casual observer, have indicated hardly the half of that age.
"She is all I have in this world!" he sighed as he laid the paper down. "Papa!" He looked up. There she stood within his chamber door! It was an unprecedented intrusion. There she stood in her rich evening dress of purple moire-antique, with the bandeau of diamonds encircling her night-black hair.
Haydée clung to the Count, who, with his arm wound about her slender waist, looked down into the liquid depths of her eyes with a smile of perfect content, while his free hand ever and anon toyed with her night-black tresses.
The only time I have seen the African ladies wearing them for ornament has been among these Igalwas, who now and again stud their night-black hair with pretty little round vividly red blossoms in a most fetching way. I wonder the Africans do not wear flowers more frequently, for they are devoted to scent, both men and women.
Their voices are sweet and low, while the subdued tone of their complexions is relieved by the arch vivacity of night-black eyes, that alternately swim in melting lustre, and sparkle in expressive glances. If their comeliness matures, like the fruits of their native clime, early and rapidly, it is sad to know that it also fades prematurely.
The dead ivory of her skin, relieved by a faint flush in her cheeks, the lustrous eyes, now aglow with passion, all set in the frame of the night-black masses of her hair this, and that indescribable but all-potent charm that love lends to the face, she saw in her glass. "Ah, God help me!" she cried, clasping her hands high above her head, and went forth.
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