it is well for a woman to be clever, or she must starve--yes,
starve! Such a one as I must starve in this accursed country if I were
not what you call clever." The brother and sister were talking in
French, and she spoke now almost as rapidly as she had written. "They
are beasts and fools, and as awkward as bulls--yes, as bulls. I hate
them--I hate them all. Men, women, children, they are all alike. Look at
the street out there. Though it is Summer, I shiver when I look out at
its blackness. It is the ugliest nation! And they understand nothing.
Oh, how I hate them!"

"They are not without merit. They have got money."

"Money--yes. They have got money, and they are so stupid you may take it
from under their eyes. They will not see you. But of their own hearts
they will give you nothing. You see that black building--the workhouse.
I call it Little England. It is just the same. The naked, hungry, poor
wretches lie at the door, and the great fat beadles swell about like
turkey-cocks inside."

"You have been here long enough to know, at any rate."

"Yes, I have been here long--too long. I have made my life a wilderness,
staying here in this country of barracks. And what have I got for it? I
came back because of that woman, and she has thrown me over. That is
your fault--yours--yours!"

"And you have sent for me to tell me that again?"

"No, Edouard. I sent for you that you might see your sister once
more--that I might once more see my brother." This she said leaning
forward on the table, on which her arms rested, and looking steadfastly
into his face with eyes moist--just moist, with a tear in each. Whether
Edouard was too unfeeling to be moved by this show of affection, or
whether he gave more credit to his sister's histrionic powers than to
those of her heart, I will not say, but he was altogether irresponsive
to her appeal. "You will be back again before long," he said.

"Never! I will come back to this accursed country never again. No, I am
going once and for all. I will soil myself with the mud of its gutters
no more. I came for the sake of Julie; and now--how has she treated me?"
Edouard shrugged his shoulders. "And you--how has she treated you?"

"Never mind me."

"Ah! but I must mind you. Only that you would not let me manage, it
might be yours now--yes, all. Why did you come down to that accursed
island?"

"It was my way to play my game. Leave that alone, Sophie." And there
came a frown over the brothe