his arms, to console her as one would a child.

"If you did not endure my presence simply for the sake of my wisdom,"
he said as calmly as possible, "I would give you the most absurd
proofs, that your existence was a necessity of life to some one besides
Friend Jean, a blessing, a source of joy, though to be sure not wholly
unclouded. But aside from all nonsense: you must not go on so,
Toinette. You're quite right: one who lives so during the day, at last
passes out of the day into the night that has no morning. I see that
I've come just at the right time. Courage, child, courage! Permit me to
tell you that you don't yet understand the life you wish to cast
away. No indeed," he continued, as she gazed at him through her tears
with a look of surprise, which seemed to say: 'yet I've experienced
enough'--"you know only want and affluence; but there are a thousand
steps between, on which a sensible person can sit down very comfortably
and accommodate himself to the world. To be sure, he must possess one
thing to make life endurable anywhere."

"You mean a contented heart?"

"Heaven forbid, my dear friend! It should be a very much spoiled,
exacting heart; do you suppose, for instance, mine would take a
predilection so easily? But it will not matter if the heart is needy
and rich at the same time--that wonderfully contradictory condition
called love, when we know not which is most blessed, to give or to
receive, where we are never satisfied with giving and receiving, and in
this absurdly delightful and nonsensically clever occupation, have no
time to consider the rest of earthly things, plush furniture or wooden
chairs, because the whole question of wealth or poverty has been
transferred to another province."

He relapsed into silence, and eagerly watched the effect of his words.
Her tears had ceased to flow, and she was gazing absently and dreamily
into vacancy.

"I don't understand you, and you can't understand me," she answered
with a scornful shake of the head. "How often must I tell you, that
I've no talent for what you call 'love!' As in this present world, both
in reality and romance, everything seems to turn upon it as a pivot,
you must easily understand, that I do not suit such a world. No, things
can't go on so, long. And really, if I were not so cowardly, and did
not fear _pain_--but that will, always restrain me until life becomes
still more unendurable, and the feeling of loneliness and desolation at
last