Remember, however, that I am only talking of myself--" "-- a good deal, but never too much," said Modeste, offended in every hole and corner of her pride by this discourse, in which the Duchesse de Chaulieu served as a dagger.

"I am so accustomed to admire you, my dear poet." "Well, then, can you promise me the same canine fidelity which I offer to you?
Is it not beautiful?
Is it not just what you have longed for ?" "But why, dear poet, do you not marry a deaf-mute, and one who is also something of an idiot?
I ask nothing better than to please my husband.
But you threaten to take away from a girl the very happiness you so kindly arrange for her; you are tearing away every gesture, every word, every look; you cut the wings of your bird, and then expect it to hover about you.

I know poets are accused of inconsistency--oh! very unjustly," she added, as Canalis made a gesture of denial; "that alleged defect which comes from the brilliant activity of their minds which commonplace people cannot take into account.

I do not believe, however, that a man of genius can invent such irreconcilable conditions and call his invention life.

You are requiring the impossible solely for the pleasure of putting me in the wrong,--like the enchanters in fairy-tales, who set tasks to persecuted young girls whom the good fairies come and deliver." "In this case the good fairy would be true love," said Canalis in a curt tone, aware that his elaborate excuse for a rupture was seen through by the keen and delicate mind which Butscha had piloted so well.
"My dear poet, you remind me of those fathers who inquire into a girl's 'dot' before they are willing to name that of their son.