Women never imagine that from the depths of our mire we raise our eyes to heaven and truly adore a Marie.

They assail that sacred love with miserable doubts; they cannot believe that men of intellect and poesy can so detach their soul from earthly enjoyment as to lay it pure upon some cherished altar.

And yet, Marie, the worship of the ideal is more fervent in men then in women; we find it in women, who do not even look for it in us." "Why are you making me that article ?" she said, jestingly.
"I am leaving France; and you will hear to-morrow, how and why, from a letter my valet will bring you.

Adieu, Marie." Raoul left the house after again straining the countess to his heart with dreadful pressure, leaving her stupefied and distressed.
"What is the matter, my dear ?" said Madame d'Espard, coming to look for her.

"What has Monsieur Nathan been saying to you?
He has just left us in a most melodramatic way.