The Count of Monte Cristo

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"She is under the big chestnut-tree," replied the spoiled brat, as he
gave, in spite of his mother's commands, live flies to the parrot, which
seemed keenly to relish such fare. Madame de Villefort stretched out her
hand to ring, intending to direct her waiting-maid to the spot where she
would find Valentine, when the young lady herself entered the
apartment. She appeared much dejected; and any person who considered her
attentively might have observed the traces of recent tears in her eyes.

Valentine, whom we have in the rapid march of our narrative presented
to our readers without formally introducing her, was a tall and graceful
girl of nineteen, with bright chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and that
reposeful air of quiet distinction which characterized her mother.
Her white and slender fingers, her pearly neck, her cheeks tinted with
varying hues reminded one of the lovely Englishwomen who have been so
poetically compared in their manner to the gracefulness of a swan. She
entered the apartment, and seeing near her stepmother the stranger of
whom she had already heard so much, saluted him without any girlish