I now prepared for an interview of congenial souls; not was I long kept in suspense. Hardly had the dame disappeared, when the door opened again, and a tall, thin, lovely girl, flew into the room. She stopped opposite me. Her yellow ringlets hung round her pale face like a mist round the moon. Again she advanced, took both my hands, and stood gazing on my features. 'Ah, what wonder,' said she, 'that Montmorenci should be captivated by these charms! No, I will not, cannot take him from you. He is your's, my friend. Marry him, and leave me to the solitude of a cloister.' 'Never!' cried I. 'Ah, madam, ah, Sympathina, your magnanimity amazes, transports me. No, my friend; your's he shall, he must be; for you love him, and I hate him.' 'Hate him!' cried she; 'and wherefore? Ah, what a form is his, and ah, what a face! Locks like the spicy cinnamon; eyes half dew, half lightning; lips like a casket of jewels, loveliest when open----' 'And teeth like the Sybil's books,' said I; 'for two of them are wanting.' 'Ah,' cried she, 'this I am informed is your reason for not marrying him; as if his charms lay in his teeth, like Sampson's strength in his hair.' 'Upon my honor,' said I, 'I would not marry him, if he had five hundred teeth. But you, my friend, you shall marry him, in spite of his teeth.' 'Ah,' cried she, 'and see my father torture you to death?' 'It were not torture,' said I, 'to save you from it.' 'It were double torture,' cried she, 'to be saved by your's.' 'Justice,' said I, 'demands the sacrifice.' 'Generosity,' said she, 'would spare the victim.' 'Is it generosity,' said I, 'to wed me with one I hate?' 'Is it justice,' said she, 'to wed me with one who hates me?' 'Ah, my friend,' cried I, 'you may vanquish me in Antithetical and Gallican repartee, but never shall you conquer me in sentimental magnanimity.' 'Let us then swear an eternal friendship,' cried she. 'I swear!' said I. 'I swear!' said she. We rushed into each other's arms. 'And now,' cried she, when the first transports had subsided, 'how do you like being a heroine?' 'Above all things in the world,' said I. 'And how do you get on at the profession?' asked she. 'It is not for me to say,' replied I. 'Only this, that ardor and assiduity are not wanting on my part.' 'Of course then,' said she, 'you shine in all the requisite qualities. Do you blush well?' 'As well as can be expected,' said I. 'Because,' said she, 'blushing is my chief beauty. I blush one tint and three-fourths with joy; two tints, including forehead and bosom, with modesty; and four with love, to the points of my fingers. My father once blushed me against the dawn for a tattered banner to a rusty poniard.' 'And who won?' said I. 'It was play or pay,' replied she; 'and the morning happened to be misty, so there was no sport in that way; but I fainted, which was just as good, if not better. Are you much addicted to fainting?' 'A little,' said I. ''Pon honor?'