Theodore wrote a few lines, then paused, and scratched out a part of the writing: Then wrote again, smiled, and seemed highly pleased with what He had been about.

At last He threw down his pen, sprang from his chair, and clapped his hands together joyfully.
'There it is!' cried He aloud: 'Now they are charming!' His transports were interrupted by a laugh from the Marquis, who suspected the nature of his employment.
'What is so charming, Theodore ?' The Youth started, and looked round.

He blushed, ran to the Table, seized the paper on which He had been writing, and concealed it in confusion.
'Oh! my Lord, I knew not that you were so near me.

Can I be of use to you?
Lucas is already gone to bed.' 'I shall follow his example when I have given my opinion of your verses.' 'My verses, my Lord ?' 'Nay, I am sure that you have been writing some, for nothing else could have kept you awake till this time of the morning.

Where are they, Theodore?
I shall like to see your composition.' Theodore's cheeks glowed with still deeper crimson: He longed to show his poetry, but first chose to be pressed for it.
'Indeed, my Lord, they are not worthy your attention.' 'Not these verses, which you just now declared to be so charming?
Come, come, let me see whether our opinions are the same.