"And is it," demanded my father with a smile, "from a conviction of the importance, or the littleness of the employment?" "Oh, of its meanness, certainly!" replied the Marquis; "it needs, I think, all the ingenuity of man's pride--all that he can collect of grand or striking, associated with himself--to soothe his vanity under the weight of his weaknesses and necessities; and what can be more painfully degrading than this propensity to devour!" "It is a philosophy I can hardly admit," replied my father; "the simple act of eating is surely not degrading, and, when employed but as the means of support, it becomes dignified by the great objects to which it tends--the preservation of life, the invigorating the body, and, consequently, the liberation of the mind from all those oppressive chains with which corporeal weakness or ill health is sure to enthral it. In my eyes, everything that nature has given or taught, is beautiful; and never becomes degrading but by the corruption with which it is mingled by man himself." "I know not," answered the Marquis, smiling at the enthusiasm with which my father sustained what was one of his most favourite theses, "but I can conceive no dignity in eating the mangled limbs of other animals slaughtered for our use." "You look not so cynically, I hope, on all other failings of humanity?" demanded my mother, willing to change the subject; and changing it to one on which every Frenchwoman thinks or has thought a great deal, she added, "Love for instance?" The Marquis bowed. "No one can be more devoted," replied he, "to the lovelier part of the creation than I am, and yet I cannot but think that the ancients did well to represent Venus as springing from the foam of the sea." "Somewhat light, you would say, in her nature," rejoined my father, "and variable as her parent waves----" "And sometimes as cold and as uncertain too," said I; but, as I did so, I saw a slight flush pass over Helen's brow, and I added, "But you forget, Monsieur le Marquis, or rather, like a skilful arguer, you do not notice, that the blood of C[oe]lus, which we translate, almost literally, a drop from heaven, was mingled with the foam of the sea to produce the goddess." "Happily turned!" replied the Marquis with a smile; "but I trust, my young friend, you are aware that the queen of love is only to be won by thes god of arms, as our sweet and tumid Raccan would put it. Have you yet entered the path in which you are born to distinguish yourself; I mean the service of your king?"