My noble sister, were I ever to lose your esteem, I should die.

Oh, how awful yet how beautiful is your scorn.

For worlds I would not be that Cam"-- Josephine laid her hand imperiously on Rose's mouth.

"To mention his name to me will be to insult me; De Beaurepaire I am, and a Frenchwoman.

Come, dear, let us go down and comfort our mother." They went down; and this patient sufferer, and high minded conqueror, of her own accord took up a commonplace book, and read aloud for two mortal hours to her mother and Aubertin.