Detail, detail, detail of the unblinking eye, even where you wish it did not see.
The little girl, not pretty but full of life, with her black eyes and wide mouth, her childish shoulders from which the bodice had slipped in her rapid flight, black curls tossed back, slender bare arms, little legs encased in lace pantaloons and feet in low slippers, was at that charming age when the girl is no longer a child and the child is not yet a young woman. (War and Peace, chapter 8, p69)
What age was that, M. Tolstoy?
(Different girl):
Sonya was a slender, diminutive brunette with melting eyes shadowed by long lashes, a thick black braid wound twice around her head, and a tawny hue to her complexion, especially on her neck and her bare, thin but graceful, muscular arms. Her fluidity of movement, the softness and flexibility of her small limbs, and a certain coyness and reticence of manner made one think of a pretty half-grown kitten that gave promise of a beautiful little cat. (chapter 9, p71)
