"Oh, how I should have doted on my child! For it seems to me that, among princes, there is always mixed up with the affection we bear a son, a sort of interested regard for the being destined to perpetuate our race,--a kind of political calculation. But a daughter!--oh, she is loved for herself alone! And when, alas! one is weary of witnessing the many fearful pictures of fallen humanity an intercourse with the world compels us to behold, what joy to turn from the dark pictures of guilt and crime to refresh ourselves by the contemplation of a young and innocent mind, and to delight in watching the unfolding of all those pure and tender feelings so guilelessly true to nature! The proudest, the happiest mother feels not half the exquisite joy of a father in observing the gradual development of a daughter's character. A mother will dwell with far greater rapture on the bold and manly qualities of a son. For have you never remarked that the cause which still further cements the doting affection of a mother for her son, or a father for his daughter, is the feeling of either requiring or bestowing aid and protection? Thus, the mother looks upon her son in the light of a future support and protection; while the father beholds in his young and helpless daughter a weak and fragile creature, clinging to him for safety, counsel, and protection from all the storms of life." "True, my lord,--most true!" "But what avails it thus to dwell on sources of delight for ever lost to me?" cried Rodolph, in a voice of the deepest dejection. His mournful tones sunk into the very heart of Clemence, who could not restrain a tear, which trickled slowly down her cheek. After a short pause, during which the prince, making a powerful effort to restrain himself, and feeling almost ashamed of allowing his feelings thus to get the better of him in the presence of Madame d'Harville, said, with a smile of infinite sadness, "Your pardon, madame, for thus allowing myself to be drawn away by the remembrance of my past griefs!" "I beseech you, my lord, make no apology to me; but, on the contrary, believe that I most sincerely sympathise with your very natural regrets. Have I not a right to share your griefs, for have I not made you a participator in mine? My greatest pain is, that the only consolation I could offer you would be vain and useless to assuage your grief."