to the
Convent."

After some talk about nuns, Ethel says, "There were convents in England.
She often thinks she would like to retire to one;" and she sighs as if
her heart were in that scheme.

Clive, with a laugh, says, "Yes. If you could retire after the season,
when you were very weary of the balls, a convent would be very nice.
At Rome he had seen San Pietro in Montorio and Sant Onofrio, that
delightful old place where Tasso died: people go and make a retreat
there. In the ladies' convents, the ladies do the same thing--and he
doubts whether they are much more or less wicked after their retreat,
than gentlemen and ladies in England or France."

Ethel. Why do you sneer at all faith? Why should not a retreat do people
good? Do you suppose the world is so satisfactory, that those who are
in it never wish for a while to leave it'd (She heaves a sigh and looks
down towards a beautiful new dress of many flounces, which Madame de
Flouncival, the great milliner, has sent her home that very day.)

Clive. I do not know what the world is, except from afar off. I am like
the Peri who looks into Paradise and sees angels within it. I live
in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square: which is not within the gates of
Paradise. I take the gate to be somewhere in Davies Street, leading
out of Oxford Street into Grosvenor Square. There's another gate in Hay
Hill: and another in Bruton Street, Bond----

Ethel. Don't be a goose.

Clive. Why not? It is as good to be a goose, as to be a lady--no, a
gentleman of fashion. Suppose I were a Viscount, an Earl, a Marquis, a
Duke, would you say Goose? No, you would say Swan.

Ethel. Unkind and unjust!--ungenerous to make taunts which common people
make: and to repeat to me those silly sarcasms which your low Radical
literary friends are always putting in their books! Have I ever made
any difference to you? Would I not sooner see you than the fine people?
Would I talk with you, or with the young dandies most willingly? Are we
not of the same blood, Clive; and of all the grandees I see about, can
there be a grander gentleman than your dear old father? You need not
squeeze my hand so.--Those little imps are look--that has nothing to do
with the question. Viens, Leonore! Tu connois bien, monsieur, n'est-ce
pas? qui te fait de si jolis dessins?

Leonore. Ah, oui! Vous m'en ferez toujours, n'est-ce pas Monsieur Clive?
des chevaux, et puis des petites filles avec leurs gouvernantes, et puis
des maiso