I have heard men talk about you till one would think that they were children.

You have something of that art or guile--call it what you will--which passes from you through a man's blood to his brain, and carries him indeed to Heaven--but carries him there mad.

Louise, don't be angry with me for what I say.

Remember that I know my sex.

I know you, too, and I trust you, but you can turn Von Behrling from a sane, honorable man into what you will, without suffering even his lips to touch your fingers.