...he was past youth, but had not reachedmiddle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him,and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-lookingyoung gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioninghim against his will, and offering my services unasked. I hadhardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one.I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance,gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate inmasculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neitherhad nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should haveshunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that isbright but antipathetic.
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
beauty, men, rochester