es, buy love, and make the Beast the
Beauty, is '_un peu de poudre d'or_,' in the eyes of the _beau sexe_."

The Tressillian flushed scarlet, but soon recovered herself.

"I have heard," she said, pulling her bouquet to pieces with impatience,
"that when people look through smoked glass the very sun looks dusky,
and so I suppose, through your own moral perceptions, you view those of
others. You know what De la Fayette wrote to Madame de Sable: '_Quelle
corruption il faut avoir dans l'esprit pour etre capable d'imaginer tout
cela!_'"

"It does not follow," answered Telfer, impassively. "De la Fayette was
quite wrong. Suard was nearer the truth when he said that Rochefoucauld,
'_a peint les hommes comme il les a vus. Il n'appartenait qu'a un homme
d'une reputation bien pure et bien distinguee d'oser fletrir ainsi le
principe de toutes les actions humaines._'"

"And Major Telfer is so unassailable himself that he can mount his
pedestal and censure all weaker mortals," said Violet, sarcastically.
"Your judgments are, perhaps, not always as infallible as the gods'."

"You are gone very wide of the original subject, Miss Tressillian,"
answered Telfer, coldly. "I was merely speaking of that common social
fraud and falsehood, a _mariage de convenance_, which, as I shall never
sin in that manner myself, I am at liberty to censure with the scorn I
feel for it."

He looked hard at her as he spoke. The Tressillian's eyes answered the
stare as haughtily.

"Some may not be all _mariages de convenance_ that you choose to call
such. It does not necessarily follow, because a girl marries a rich man,
that she marries him for his money. There _may_ be love in the case, but
the world never gives her the grace of the doubt."

"What hardy hypocrisy," thought Telfer. "She'd actually try to persuade
me to my face that she was in love with the poor old governor and his
gout!"

"Pardon me," he said, with his most cynical smile. "In attributing
disinterested affection to ladies, I think '_quelque disposition qu'ait
le monde a mal juger, il fait plus souvent grace au faux merite qu'il ne
fait injustice au veritable_.'"

The Tressillian's soft lips curved angrily; she turned away, and began
to sing again, at Walsham's entreaty. Telfer got up and lounged over to
Virginie, with whom he laughed, talked, waltzed, and played chess for
the rest of the evening.

III.

FROM WHICH IT WOULD APPEAR, THAT IT IS SOMETIMES WELL TO BEGIN WITH