Come; I have a fine menagerie of twenty here in the carre: let me place you amongst my collection." "But first suffer me to have one dance with one pupil of my choice." "Have you the face to ask such a thing?
It is madness: it is impiety.
Sortez, sortez, au plus vite." She drove him before her, and soon had him enclosed within the cordon.
Ginevra being, I suppose, tired with dancing, sought me out in my retreat.

She threw herself on the bench beside me, and (a demonstration I could very well have dispensed with) cast her arms round my neck.
"Lucy Snowe! Lucy Snowe!" she cried in a somewhat sobbing voice, half hysterical.
"What in the world is the matter ?" I drily said.
"How do I look--how do I look to-night ?" she demanded.
"As usual," said I; "preposterously vain." "Caustic creature! You never have a kind word for me; but in spite of you, and all other envious detractors, I know I am beautiful; I feel it, I see it--for there is a great looking-glass in the dressing-room, where I can view my shape from head to foot.

Will you go with me now, and let us two stand before it ?" "I will, Miss Fanshawe: you shall be humoured even to the top of your bent." The dressing-room was very near, and we stepped in.

Putting her arm through mine, she drew me to the mirror.

Without resistance remonstrance, or remark, I stood and let her self-love have its feast and triumph: curious to see how much it could swallow--whether it was possible it could feed to satiety--whether any whisper of consideration for others could penetrate her heart, and moderate its vainglorious exultation.
Not at all.