_Harley._--"If it were in the power of an animal magnetizer to get me out of my own skin into somebody else's! _That's_ my fancy! I am so tired of myself--so tired! I have run through all my ideas--know every one of them by heart; when some pretentious imposter of an idea perks itself up and says, 'Look at me, I'm a new acquaintance'--I just give it a nod, and say, 'Not at all, you have only got a new coat on; you are the same old wretch that has bored me these last twenty years; get away.' But if one could be in a new skin! if I could be for half an hour your tall porter, or one of your eminent matter-of-fact men, I should then really travel into a new world.[9] Every man's brain must be a world in itself, eh? If I could but make a parochial settlement even in yours, Audley--run over all your thoughts and sensations. Upon my life, I'll go and talk to that French mesmerizer about it." _Audley_, (who does not seem to like the notion of having his thoughts and sensations rummaged even by his friend, and even in fancy.)--"Pooh, pooh, pooh! Do talk like a man of sense." _Harley._--"Man of sense! Where shall I find a model! I don't know a man of sense!--never met such a creature. Don't believe it ever existed. At one time I thought Socrates must have been a man of sense;--a delusion; he would stand gazing into the air, and talking to his Genius from sunrise to sunset. Is that like a man of sense? Poor Audley, how puzzled he looks! Well, I'll try and talk sense to oblige you. And first, (here Harley raised himself on his elbow)--first, is it true, as I have heard vaguely, that you are paying court to the sister of that infamous Italian traitor?" "Madame di Negra? No; I am not paying _court_ to her," answered Audley with a cold smile. "But she is very handsome; she is very clever; she is useful to me--I need not say how or why; that belongs to my _métier_ as politician. But, I think, if you will take my advice, or get your friend to take it, I could obtain from her brother, through my influence with her, some liberal concessions to your exile. She is very anxious to know where he is." "You have not told her?" "No; I promised you I would keep that secret." "Be sure you do; it is only for some mischief, some snare, that she could desire such information. Concessions! pooh! This is no question of concessions, but of rights." "I think you should leave your friend to judge of that." "Well, I will write to him. Meanwhile, beware of this woman. I have heard much of her abroad, and she has the character of her brother for duplicity and--" "Beauty," interrupted Audley, turning the conversation with practised adroitness. "I am told that the Count is one of the handsomest men in Europe, much handsomer than his sister still, though nearly twice her age. Tut--tut--Harley! fear not for me. I am proof against all feminine attractions. This heart is dead."