Chapter 183

170 MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE thusiasm. So intense an expression of romance , perhaps I should call it, or of unworldliness, as that which gleamed from her deep-set eyes, had never so sunk into my heart of hearts before. I know not how it is, but this peculiar expression of the eye, wreathing itself occasionally into the lips, is the most powerful, if not absolutely the sole , spell which rivets my interest in woman. “Romance,” provided my readers fully comprehend what I would here imply by the word — “romance” and “womanliness” seem to me convertible terms, and after all, what man truly loves in woman is simply her womanhood . The eyes of Annie (I heard some one from the interior call her “Annie, darling!”) were “spiritual gray,” her hair a light chestnut; this is all I had time to observe of her. At her most courteous of invitations I entered, passing first into a tolerably wide vestibule. Having come mainly to observe , I took notice that to my right as I stepped in was a window such as those in front of the house, to the left, a door leading into the principal room, while, opposite me, an open door enabled me to see a small apartment, just the size of the vestibule, arranged as a study, and having a large bow window looking to the north. Passing into the parlor I found myself with Mr. Landor , for this I afterwards found was his name. He was civil, even cordial, in his manner, but just then I was more intent on observing the arrangements of the dwelling which had so much interested me than the personal appearance of the tenant. The north wing I no w saw was a bedchamber, its door opened into the parlor. West of this door was a single window looking towards the brook. At the west end of the parlor were a fireplace and a door leading into the west wing, probably a kitchen. Nothing could be more rigorously simple than the furniture of the parlor. On the floor was an ingrain carpet of excellent texture, a white ground spotted with small