Sometimes, when I saw in the morning papers that a celebrated actor was to appear in a fine drama, my heart throbbed with momentary desire, and my lips opened to express it.

But delicacy and pride always restrained its expression.

I waited for him to say,-- "Gabriella, would you like to go ?" The morning after her arrival she ransacked the papers, and fastening on the column devoted to amusements, read its contents aloud, to the evident annoyance of Ernest.
"Niblo's Garden, the inimitable Ravels--_La Fete champetre_,--dancing on the tight-rope, etc.

Yes, that's it.

We will go there to-night, Gabriella.