Ah, mon Paul.
La canaille, whether it lives in Whitechapel or Park Lane, what does it matter to us ?" "The riff-raff, unfortunately," said Paul, "forms the general judgment of society." The Princess drew herself up in all her aristocratic dignity.

"My Paul well-beloved," said she, "you have still one or two things to learn.
People of greatness and rank march with their peers, and they can spit upon the canaille.

There is canaille in your House of Lords, upon which, the day after to-morrow, you can spit, and it will take off its coronet and thank you--and now," she said, resuming her seat on the sofa, among the cushions, "let us stop arguing.

If there is any more arguing to be done, let us put it off to another occasion.

Let us dismiss the questions of marriage and Ionian islands altogether, and let us talk pleasantly like dear friends who are reconciled." And with the wit of the woman who loves and the subtlety of the woman of the world she took Paul in her delicate hands and held him before her smiling eyes and made him tell her of all the things she wanted to know.