noon
Such thoughts of religion , the natural thoughts of age , floated up now and again on the current of Mme. d'Aiglemont 's thoughts ; they were always dimly present in her mind , but sometimes they shone out clearly , sometimes they were carried under , like flowers tossed on the vexed surface of a stormy sea . She sat on a garden-seat , tired with walking , exhausted with much thinking -- with the long thoughts in which a whole lifetime rises up before the mind , and is spread out like a scroll before the eyes of those who feel that Death is near . If a poet had chanced to pass along the boulevard , he would have found an interesting picture in the face of this woman , grown old before her time . As she sat under the dotted shadow of the acacia , the shadow the acacia casts at noon , a thousand thoughts were written for all the world to see on her features , pale and cold even in the hot , bright sunlight . There was something sadder than the sense of waning life in that expressive face , some trouble that went deeper than the weariness of experience . It was a face of a type that fixes you in a moment among a host of characterless faces that fail to draw a second glance , a face to set you thinking . Among a thousand pictures in a gallery , you are strongly impressed by the sublime anguish on the face of some Madonna of Murillo 's ; by some _ Beatrice Cenci _ in which Guido 's art portrays the most touching innocence against a background of horror and crime ; by the awe and majesty that should encircle a king , caught once and for ever by Velasquez in the sombre face of a Philip II. , and so is it with some living human faces ; they are tyrannous pictures which speak to you , submit you to searching scrutiny , and give response to your inmost thoughts , nay , there are faces that set forth a whole drama , and Mme. d'Aiglemont 's stony face was one of these awful tragedies , one of such faces as Dante Alighieri saw by thousands in his vision .