virgin of the rocks

cheek now, as it fell that night? Can I say she ever changed, when my remembrance brings her back to life, thus only; and, truer to its loving youth than I have been, or man ever is, still holds fast what it cherished then? ¡¡¡¡I write of her just as she was when I had gone to bed after this talk, and she came to bid me good night. She kneeled down playfully by the side of the bed, and laying her chin upon her hands, and laughing, said:
¡¡¡'What was it they said, Davy? Tell me again. I can't believe it.' ¡¡¡¡'"Bewitching -"' I began. ¡¡¡¡My mother put her hands upon my lips to stop me. ¡¡¡¡'It was never bewitching,' she said, laughing. 'It never could have been bewitching, Davy. Now I know it wasn't!' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, it was. "Bewitching Mrs. Copperfield",' I repeated stoutly. 'And, "pretty."' ¡¡¡¡'No, no, it was never pretty. Not pretty,' interposed my mother, laying her fingers on my lips again. ¡¡¡¡'Yes it was. "Pretty little widow."'