hand. I even see that the contrary would
cost you more, for nature has gifted your heart with unalterable
calmness.

_Baroness_ [_drawing away her hand_]--Say at once that I'm a monster.

_Marquis_--Time enough! The credulous think you a saint; the skeptics
say you desire power; I, Guy Francois Condorier, Marquis d'Auberive,
think you a clever little German, trying to build a throne for yourself
in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. You have conquered the men, but the women
resist you: your reputation offends them; and for want of a better
weapon they use this miserable rumor I've just repeated. In short, your
flag's inadequate and you're looking for a larger one. Henry IV. said
that Paris was worth a mass. You think so too.

_Baroness_--They say sleep-walkers shouldn't be contradicted. However,
do let me say that if I really wanted a husband--with my money and my
social position, I might already have found twenty.

_Marquis_--Twenty, yes; but not one. You forget this little devil of a
rumor.

_Baroness [rising]_--Only fools believe that.

_Marquis [rising]_--There's the _hic_. It's only very clever men, too
clever, who court you, and you want a fool.

_Baroness_--Why?

_Marquis_--Because you don't want a master. You want a husband whom you
can keep in your parlor, like a family portrait, nothing more.

_Baroness_--Have you finished, dear diviner? What you have just said
lacks common-sense, but you are amusing, and I can refuse you nothing.

_Marquis_--Marechal shall have the oration?

_Baroness_--Or I'll lose my name.

_Marquis_--And you _shall_ lose your name--I promise you.

A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE

From 'The Adventuress'

_Clorinde_ [_softly_]--Here's Celie. Look at her clear eyes. I love her,
innocent child!

_Annibal_--Yes, yes, yes! [_He sits down in a corner._]

_Clorinde_ [_approaching Celie, who has paused in the doorway_]--My
child, you would not avoid me to-day if you knew how happy you make me!

_Celie_--My father has ordered me to come to you.

_Clorinde_--Ordered you? Did you need an order? Are we really on such
terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you, that you should look
upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you could read my heart you would find
there the tenderest attachment.

_Celie_--I do not know whether you are sincere, Madame. I hope that you
are not, for it distresses one to be loved by those--

_Clorinde_--Whom one does not love? They must have painted me black
indeed, that