Clotilde felt as though she had been laid entire upon a slide of his microscope.
Aurora at length broke her reverie.
"Clotilde,"-- she spoke in French--"the matter with you is that you have no heart.

You never did have any.

Really and truly, you do not care whether 'Sieur Frowenfel' lives or dies.

You do not care how he is or where he is this minute.

I wish you had some of my too large heart.