_Marquis_--But you are right in wanting to marry again. _Baroness_--Who says I want to? _Marquis_--Ah! you don't treat me as a friend. I deserve your confidence all the more for understanding you as if you had given it. The aid of a sorcerer is not to be despised, Baroness. _Baroness_ [_sitting down by the table_]--Prove your sorcery. _Marquis_ [_sitting down opposite_]--Willingly! Give me your hand. _Baroness_ [_removing her glove_]--You'll give it back again. _Marquis_--And help you dispose of it, which is more. [_Examining her hand_.] You are beautiful, rich, and a widow. _Baroness_--I could believe myself at Mademoiselle Lenormand's! _Marquis_--While it is so easy, not to say tempting, for you to lead a brilliant, frivolous life, you have chosen a rôle almost austere with its irreproachable morals. _Baroness_--If it was a rôle, you'll admit that it was much like a penitence. _Marquis_--Not for you. _Baroness_--What do you know about it? _Marquis_--I read it in your hand. I even see that the contrary would cost you more, for nature has gifted your heart with unalterable calmness. _Baroness_ [_drawing away her hand_]--Say at once that I'm a monster. _Marquis_--Time enough! The credulous think you a saint; the skeptics say you desire power; I, Guy François Condorier, Marquis d'Auberive, think you a clever little German, trying to build a throne for yourself in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. You have conquered the men, but the women resist you: your reputation offends them; and for want of a better weapon they use this miserable rumor I've just repeated. In short, your flag's inadequate and you're looking for a larger one. Henry IV. said that Paris was worth a mass. You think so too. _Baroness_--They say sleep-walkers shouldn't be contradicted. However, do let me say that if I really wanted a husband--with my money and my social position, I might already have found twenty. _Marquis_--Twenty, yes; but not one. You forget this little devil of a rumor. _Baroness [rising]_--Only fools believe that. _Marquis [rising]_--There's the _hic_. It's only very clever men, too clever, who court you, and you want a fool. _Baroness_--Why? _Marquis_--Because you don't want a master. You want a husband whom you can keep in your parlor, like a family portrait, nothing more. _Baroness_--Have you finished, dear diviner? What you have just said lacks common-sense, but you are amusing, and I can refuse you nothing. _Marquis_--Maréchal shall have the oration? _Baroness_--Or I'll lose my name. _Marquis_--And you _shall_ lose your name--I promise you. A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE From 'The Adventuress' _Clorinde_ [_softly_]--Here's Célie. Look at her clear eyes. I love her, innocent child! _Annibal_--Yes, yes, yes! [_He sits down in a corner._] _Clorinde_ [_approaching Célie, who has paused in the doorway_]--My child, you would not avoid me to-day if you knew how happy you make me! _Célie_--My father has ordered me to come to you.