"She is not like that?" said the Princess, taking from her wallet a miniature with jewels around it, and holding it before her son. It was her own in all the fire of youth, and as Deronda looked at it with admiring sadness, she said, "Had I not a rightful claim to be something more than a mere daughter and mother? The voice and the genius matched the face. Whatever else was wrong, acknowledge that I had a right to be an artist, though my father's will was against it. My nature gave me a charter."
"I do acknowledge that," said Deronda, looking from the miniature to her face, which even in its worn pallor had an expression of living force beyond anything that the pencil could show.
"Will you take the portrait?" said the Princess, more gently. "If she is a kind woman, teach her to think of me kindly."

"She is not like that?" said the Princess, taking from her wallet a miniature. It was her own portrait in youth, and as Deronda looked at it with admiring sadness, she said, "Had I not a rightful claim to be more than a mere daughter and mother? The voice and the genius matched the face. Whatever else was wrong, acknowledge that I had a right to be an artist."
"I do acknowledge that," said Deronda.
"Will you take the portrait?" said the Princess, more gently. "Teach her to think of me kindly."
