He had learned at La Flèche, learned before he was ten from Erasmus' rules, the proper way to look; learned that the eyes are the windows of the soul.

Stupidity is wide-eyed, inertia stares, anger looks sharp, the eyes of the immodest dart about, ever active. But the look of civility is calm amiability. He watches over his eyes with care, keeps his whole countenance under careful scrutiny.