“Your cousin does not like him. She thinks he is a good man; she thinks him genuine. She is mistaken; he deceives her, as he deceives everybody. Yes, I know: he is a man who has not any of this (and Patience put his hand to his heart). He is a man who is always proclaiming: ‘In me behold the champion of virtue, the champion of the unfortunate, the champion of all the wise men and friends of the human race, etc., etc.’ While I--Patience--I know that he lets poor folk die of hunger at the gates of his chateau. I know that if any one said to him, ‘Give up your castle and eat black bread, give up your lands and become a soldier, and then there will be no more misery in the world, the human race--as you call it--will be saved,’ his real self would answer, ‘Thanks, I am lord of my lands, and I am not yet tired of my castle.’ Oh! I know them so well, these sham paragons. How different with Edmee! You do not know that. You love her because she is as beautiful as the daisy in the meadows, while I--I love her because she is good as the moon that sheds light on all. She is a girl who gives away everything that she has; who would not wear a jewel, because with the gold in a ring a man could be kept alive for a year. And if she finds a foot-sore child by the road-side, she takes off her shoes and gives them to him, and goes on her way bare-footed. Then, look you, hers is a heart that never swerves. If to-morrow the village of Saint-Severe were to go to her in a body and say: ‘Young lady, you have lived long enough in the lap of wealth, give us what you have, and take your turn at work’--‘That is but fair, my good friends,’ she would reply, and with a glad heart she would go and tend the flocks in the fields. Her mother was the same. I knew her mother when she was quite young, young as yourself; and I knew yours too. Oh, yes. She was a lady with a noble mind, charitable and just to all. And you take after her, they say.” “Alas, no,” I answered, deeply touched by these words of Patience. “I know neither charity nor justice.”