“You look simply stunning this evening.” A hot red blush rushed to Lisette’s cheeks as the curtseyed politely and kept her gaze to the ground. “You as well, milord.” He flashed her a smile; her heart fluttered. The young man then departed. Lisette took a seat in one of the rows of chairs against the wall where many other striking young women sat, waiting for a handsome young man to take their hand in a dance. Of course it was inevitable that one would, because their beauty assured them of almost anything. Most of them had either piercing sapphire or emerald eyes that shone throughout the ballroom. They sported beautiful hairstyles that couldn’t have been done elsewhere but professionally and not short of several hours would they take to prepare. They wore stunning gowns with sequins unimaginable that were likely customized and cost more than Lisette was even worth. Their jewelry was stunning, all diamonds, pears, gold, silver, opals, rubies, sapphires, crystals, emeralds and everything else imaginable. Conversely, Lisette wore a simple, slim, black dress with ridges along the bottom hem and her hair was as plain as plain could be and rested on her shoulders as flat as if an iron had soared across it. Her eyes did not shine with any unique colour, for it was just brown. She wore no jewelry, for she couldn’t afford any. She felt so incredibly out of place, like a rock among a mine of jewels. She was invited only under the condition of chaperoning her distant cousin, for the only reason that her cousin would look more gorgeous than she already was in comparison to plain Lisette. Immediately, Lisette began to regret ever coming. The beautiful women that once surrounded her, one by one began to disappear because they were being asked to dance by handsome men. Lisette stayed seated, feeling entirely ill at ease and embarrassed. Her eyes searched the room and her gaze settled on the kind gentleman she had spoken to earlier. It looked like he was looking for someone. A spark set aglow within Lisette’s heart, a spark of hope that he was looking for her. One part of her mind was convinced that it was a foolish thing to hope for. Just because he was the only one that complimented her, much less noticed her since she arrived, didn’t mean that he was necessarily head over heels for her. Yet, her hopeless romantic heart got the best of her. She fixed her eyes on him as he continued to search the crowd of couples dancing. With all her might, she wished his glance would come her way. He turned around and his eyes set on a blonde in a light blue gown with her hair styled like the others. As their eyes met, chemistry was definitely not absent. She curtseyed at him and he gently kissed her hand. They began to dance in tune with the music. Like an aircraft that had just been shot down, Lisette’s heart sank. Suddenly her despair turned to anger, first at the blonde, and then at him, but that only lasted a few moments, for her true anger only settled on herself. Why can’t I be like her? She thought. Why do I have to be so plain? So tasteless? Why can’t I be beautiful and elegant like her? Her despair grew and a sickly feeling grew within her stomach. Lisette’s chestnut eyes filled with tears of despair until the scene of all the dancing people became blurred. She did not notice that she was the only one left sitting on the sides. She felt the need to leave, immediately. She stood up and held in her tears with as much strength as she could as she ran out of the ballroom as hastily as possible. Once she stepped outside, she remembered that her cousin’s limousine was her only chance of leaving, and he wouldn’t be coming until she called—which probably wouldn’t be anytime soon. Instead, Lisette sat down on the steps. She held her head in her hands and sobbed. She sobbed because she had gotten her hopes up much too high, once again. In actuality, she was angriest with herself for being so upset over such a thing. It seemed so out of her control, though. She couldn’t stop crying if she tried. After a while, Lisette wasn’t quite sure of how long she had been out there, she noticed someone sitting next to her. Her eyes were so blurred by the tears, and her face so twisted with desolation, she felt ashamed to look at anyone and therefore kept her face hidden in her hands. She felt so numb both inside and out, she wasn’t sure how to react. It was probably a complete stranger who was on their way into the ballroom and stopped to make sure she was well out of sympathy. She wiped away the tears from her eyes and glanced to the stranger next to her—it was the gentleman who had spoken to her earlier, the same one who she was crying over right now. “Such a pretty girl as you shouldn’t be crying such tears of despair,” he said to her. “Why do you say such things?” she asked. “I only speak of the truth.” “Why speak of such false truth? There’s no need to console me out of pity, you know just as I do that I am as plain a simple stone compared to the women in that ballroom.” “I’m not sure what you’re talking about! Those women inside—they all look the same! Expensive gowns of velvet and who knows what else, that excessive hairstyle that is seen far too often, and jewels one too many, why compare yourself to them?” “Have you not noticed? All of the gentlemen adore such beauties! They ask them to dance, and flatter them each and every day.” “But those men have only one thing in mind.” “I beg your pardon?” “They find no interest in a woman’s character, but only in her body.” “And I suppose you find interest in a woman’s character?” “Absolutely.” “And you had not a thought of that woman’s body who you were dancing with earlier?” “Who? Giselle? I promised her a dance; she’s a daughter of nobility. I’ve no personal interest in her, I assure you.” “How am I to know you’re not just insincere?” “Shall I prove it to you with a dance?” “Would you not be ashamed?” “Ashamed? For what! The others should envy me.” “Envy?” “How many men have the opportunity to dance with a woman with such unique beauty as yourself?” Her cheeks grew warm. “My name is Lisette.” “Enchanting to meet you, milady. You may call me Olivier. May I have this dance?” He asked, holding out his hand. “You may,” she replied, giving him her hand. He led her back into the ballroom. That day, Olivier taught Lisette an important lesson. Those who may be beautiful on the outside often lack persona. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And that day in Lisette’s life, she felt beautiful, no longer a stone among the jewels. But she wasn’t just any jewel. She was his jewel. | 
