Aye, and better than all, and more than all, here was Zoe
Barbille drawing her mother's attention to him almost in the embrace of
the magnificent jurist.
The Judge, with his small, round, quizzical eyes which missed nothing,
saw too; and his attention was strangely arrested by the faces of both
the mother and the child. His first glance at the woman's face made him
flash an inward light on the memory of Jean Jacques' face in the witness-
box, and a look of reflective irony came into his own. The face of
Carmen Dolores, wife of the philosophic miller and money-master, did not
belong to the world where she was placed--not because she was so unlike
the habitant women, or even the wives of the big farmers, or the sister
of the Cure, or the ladies of the military and commercial exiles who
lived in that portion of the province; but because of an alien something
in her look--a lonely, distant sense of isolation, a something which
might hide a companionship and sympathy of a rare kind, or might be but
the mask of a furtive, soulless nature. In the child's face was nothing
of this. It was open as the day, bright with the cheerfulness of her
father's countenance, alive with a humour which that countenance did not
possess.
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