And you," said she, suddenly turning to Ernest, "you remind me of the prince, the enchanted prince in the Arabian Nights, only he was half marble, you are a whole statue.

You do not like music.

I pity you." "I have my own peculiar tastes," he answered quietly; "some nerves are more delicately strung than others." "Do you imply that _my_ playing is too loud for delicate nerves?
Why, that is nothing to what I can do.

That is my company music.

When I am at home I give full scope to my powers." "We are perfectly satisfied with the specimen we have heard," said he, smiling; how could he help it?
and every one laughed, none more heartily than the gay musician herself.