The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 47: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OF LONDON. _ 45 of the room where Lady Campbell and Miss Trevor were seated. Rio Santo appeared immediately. He was a man of tal! stature and heroic countenance, but delicately moulded, and marked with that serene tranquillity which is so frequently seen on the faces of Italians, such as an old master would give a hero, king, or demi-god. He wore a black mustache, curled in the Spanish style; his hair fell in natural curls, exposing a bold and haughty forehead, while his eyss, beneath the atch of his thick eysbrows, charmed and overpowered ail upon whom they fell. There was but one defect in his distinguished physiognomy, and that was, the seal of sensuality upon his lip. Tne gait and méin of Rio Santo was proud and kingly, his costumes was striking from iis unstudied elegance —three sovereign orders shone upon his breast. Tae name of Rio Santo created a restrained murmur through the fashionable assemblaga.— Some ladies missed the figures of the quadrille ; others forgot to answer the questions waiea were pldpeniaa to them. Frank Percival could not be compared with — his briiliant rival in external advantages. Rio Santo was one of those men on whom age makes no impression, whom time seems to forget in its progress, It would have been difficult to tell precisely how many years had passed over his head, but he no longer possessed that flower of youth which bloomed in Frank's features. Percival fixed an intent gaze upon the marquis, whom he interrupted in the narrow passage opened bythe company. At the first glance it seemed te COMME OO KSEEORN