Alas! alas! Rosette, what you have just said includes the history of the whole world; the best part of us is that which remains within us and which we cannot display.--It is the same with poets.--Their noblest poem is the one they have not written; they carry more poems to the grave than they leave in their library. ROSETTE. I shall carry my poem to the grave with me. THÉODORE. And I mine.--Who has not written one at some time in his life? who is so fortunate, or so unfortunate, as not to have composed his in his head or in his heart?--Even headsmen may have composed poems, all moist with tears of the tenderest sensibility; poets perhaps have composed some that would be suited to headsmen, so bloody and monstrous they are. ROSETTE. Yes.--White roses can fitly be placed on my grave. I have had ten lovers, but I am a virgin, and I shall die a virgin. Many virgins, on whose graves there is a constant snow of jasmine and orange blossoms, were veritable Messalinas. THÉODORE. I know what a noble creature you are, Rosette. ROSETTE. You only in all the world have seen what I am; for you have seen me under the influence of a love that is perfectly genuine and very deep-rooted, as it is hopeless; and no one who has not seen a woman in love can say what she is; that is the one thing that consoles me in my bitterness of spirit. THÉODORE. And what does this young man think of you, who is your lover to-day in the eyes of the world? ROSETTE.