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BOOK III DURANDE AND DÉRUCHETTE I PRATTLE AND SMOKE The human body might well be regarded as a mere simulacrum ; but it envelopes our reality , it darkens our light , and broadens the shadow in which we live . The soul is the reality of our existence . Strictly speaking , the human visage is a mask . The true man is that which exists under what is called man . If that being , which thus exists sheltered and secreted behind that illusion which we call the flesh , could be approached , more than one strange revelation would be made . The vulgar error is to mistake the outward husk for the living spirit . Yonder maiden , for example , if we could see her as she really is , might she not figure as some bird of the air ? A bird transmuted into a young maiden , what could be more exquisite ? Picture it in your own home , and call it Déruchette . Delicious creature ! One might be almost tempted to say , “ Good - morning , Mademoiselle Goldfinch . ” The wings are invisible , but the chirping may still be heard . Sometimes , too , she pipes a clear , loud song . In her childlike prattle , the creature is , perhaps , inferior ; but in her song , how superior to humanity ! When womanhood dawns , this angel flies away ; but sometimes returns , bringing back a little one to a mother . Meanwhile , she who is one day to be a mother is for a long while a child ; the girl becomes a maiden , fresh and joyous as the lark . Noting her movements , we feel as if it was good of her not to fly away . The dear familiar companion moves at her own sweet will about the house ; flits from branch to branch , or rather from room to room ; goes to and fro ; approaches and retires ; plumes her wings , or rather combs her hair , and makes all kinds of gentle noises — murmurings of unspeakable delight to certain ears . She asks a question , and is answered ; is asked something in return , and chirps a reply . It is delightful to chat with her when tired of serious talk ; for this creature carries with her something of her skyey element . She is , as it were , a thread of gold interwoven with your sombre thoughts ; you feel almost grateful to her for her kindness in not making herself invisible , when it would be so easy for her to be even impalpable ; for the beautiful is a necessary of life . There is , in this world , no function more important than that of being charming . The forest - glade would be incomplete without the humming - bird . To shed joy around , to radiate happiness , to cast light upon dark days , to be the golden thread of our destiny , and the very spirit of grace and harmony , is not this to render a service ? Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us , even by the simple fact of being beautiful ? Here and there we meet with one who possesses that fairy - like power of enchanting all about her ; sometimes she is ignorant herself of this magical influence , which is , however , for that reason , only the more perfect .
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