Non, Monsieur, I go to church, to the play, to the Tuilleries, for a brief relaxation--and me voila partout accable with my good fortune.

I am not handsome, Monsieur, at least, not very; it is true, that I have expression, a certain air noble, (my first cousin, Monsieur, is the Chevalier de Margot) and above all, de l'a me in my physiognomy; the women love soul, Monsieur--something intellectual and spiritual always attracts them; yet my success certainly is singular." "Bah! Monsieur," replied I: "with dignity, expression, and soul! how could the heart of any French woman resist you?
No, you do yourself injustice.

It was said of Caesar, that he was great without an effort; much more, then, may Monsieur Margot be happy without an exertion." "Ah, Monsieur!" rejoined the Frenchman, still looking "As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out As sober Lanesbro' dancing with the gout." "Ah, Monsieur, there is a depth and truth in your remarks, worthy of Montaigne.

As it is impossible to account for the caprices of women, so it is impossible for ourselves to analyze the merit they discover in us; but, Monsieur, hear me--at the house where I lodge, there is an English lady en pension.

Eh bien, Monsieur, you guess the rest: she has taken a caprice for me, and this very night she will admit me to her apartment.
She is very handsome,--Ah qu'elle est belle, une jolie petite bouche, une denture eblouissante, un nez tout afait grec, in fine, quite a bouton de rose." I expressed my envy at Monsieur Margot's good fortune, and when he had sufficiently dilated upon it, he withdrew.