the descent is the beast's confession. Do I
say how? Perhaps by your aid.--You do not start and cry: "Mine!" That is
well. I have not much esteem for non-professional actresses. They are
numerous and not entertaining.--You leave it to me to talk.'

'Could I do better?'

'You listen sweetly.'

'It is because I like to hear.'

'You have the pearly little ear of a shell on the sand.'

'With the great sea sounding near it!'

Alvan drew closer to her.

'I look into your eyes and perceive that one may listen to you and speak
to you. Heart to heart, then! Yes, a sea to lull you, a sea to win
you--temperately, let us hope; by storm, if need be. My prize is found!
The good friend who did the part of Iris for us came bounding to me: "I
have discovered the wife for you, Alvan." I had previously heard of her
from another as having touched the islet of Capri. "But," said Kollin,
"she is a gold-crested serpent--slippery!" Is she? That only tells me of
a little more to be mastered. I feel my future now. Hitherto it has been
a land without sunlight. Do you know how the look of sunlight on a land
calms one? It signifies to the eye possession and repose, the end
gained--not the end to labour, just heaven! but peace to the heart's
craving, which is the renewal of strength for work, the fresh dip in the
waters of life. Conjure up your vision of Italy. Remember the meaning of
Italian light and colour: the clearness, the luminous fulness, the
thoughtful shadows. Mountain and wooded headland are solid, deep to the
eye, spirit-speaking to the mind. They throb. You carve shapes of Gods
out of that sky, the sea, those peaks. They live with you. How they
satiate the vacant soul by influx, and draw forth the troubled from its
prickly nest!--Well, and you are my sunlighted land. And you will have to
be fought for. And I see not the less repose in the prospect! Part of you
may be shifty-sand. The sands are famous for their golden shining--as you
shine. Well, then, we must make the quicksands concrete. I have a perfect
faith in you, and in the winning of you. Clearly you will have to be
fought for. I should imagine it a tough battle to come. But as I doubt
neither you nor myself, I see beyond it.--We use phrases in common, and
aphorisms, it appears. Why? but that our minds act in unison. What if I
were to make a comparison of you with Paris?--the city of Paris,
Lutetia.'

'Could you make it good?' said Clotilde.

He laughed and postponed