ity, not to sacrifice the
slightest feeling to interest or to ambition; but to give up all to
fidelity of heart and reciprocal affection."

"And how many women, think you, are capable of feeling such
disinterested passion?"

"More, by thousands, than there are men who merit it," answered
Zarah. "Alas! how often do you see the female, pale, and wretched, and
degraded, still following with patient constancy the footsteps of some
predominating tyrant, and submitting to all his injustice with the
endurance of a faithful and misused spaniel, which prizes a look from
his master, though the surliest groom that ever disgraced humanity, more
than all the pleasure which the world besides can furnish him? Think
what such would be to one who merited and repaid her devotion."

"Perhaps the very reverse," said the Duke; "and for your simile, I can
see little resemblance. I cannot charge my spaniel with any perfidy; but
for my mistresses--to confess truth, I must always be in a cursed hurry
if I would have the credit of changing them before they leave me."

"And they serve you but rightly, my lord," answered the lady; "for what
are you?--Nay, frown not; for you must hear the truth for once. Nature
has done its part, and made a fair outside, and courtly education hath
added its share. You are noble, it is the accident of birth--handsome,
it is the caprice of Nature--generous, because to give is more easy
than to refuse--well-apparelled, it is to the credit of your
tailor--well-natured in the main, because you have youth and
health--brave, because to be otherwise were to be degraded--and witty,
because you cannot help it."

The Duke darted a glance on one of the large mirrors. "Noble, and
handsome, and court-like, generous, well-attired, good-humoured,
brave, and witty!--You allow me more, madam, than I have the slightest
pretension to, and surely enough to make my way, at some point at least,
to female favour."

"I have neither allowed you a heart nor a head," said Zarah
calmly.--"Nay, never redden as if you would fly at me. I say not but
nature may have given you both; but folly has confounded the one, and
selfishness perverted the other. The man whom I call deserving the
name is one whose thoughts and exertions are for others, rather than
himself,--whose high purpose is adopted on just principles, and never
abandoned while heaven or earth affords means of accomplishing it. He is
one who will neither seek an indirect advantage