She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. 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.
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