Frankenstein

celestial stamp in all her features.

The peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and
admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She
was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother
was a German, and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been
placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. They
had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just born. The
father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in the memory of
the antique glory of Italy,--one among the schiavi ognor frementi, who
exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He became the
victim of its weakness. Whether he had died, or still lingered in the
dungeons of Austria, was not known. His property was confiscated, his
child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued with her foster
parents, and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose
among dark-leaved brambles.

When my father returned from Milan, he found playing with me in the hall
of our villa, a child fairer than pictured cherub--a creature who seemed
to shed radiance from her looks, and whose form and motions were lighter