Leon.--Without going back to the past, I must answer you that it is
the only sail which remained on my boat. The others are torn by the
wind of life. If it were not for this last sail, I should have sunk
long ago.

Jadwiga.--And I think that it was a rock on which has been wrecked
not only your boat--but no matter! So much the worse for those who
believed in fair weather and a smooth sea. We must at least prevent
ourselves from now being carried where we do not wish to sail.

Leon.--And where the sandy banks are sure--

Jadwiga.--What strange conversation! It seems to me that it is a net,
in which the truth lies at the bottom, struggling in vain to break the
meshes. But perhaps it is better so.

Leon.--Much better. Madam, you have written me that you wished to see
me on an important matter. I am listening.

Jadwiga.--Yes (smiling). It is permitted a society woman to have her
fancies and desires--sometimes inexplicable fancies, and it is not
permitted a gentleman to refuse them. Well, then, I wished to see my
portrait, painted by the great painter Leon. Would you be willing to
paint it?

Leon.--Madam--

Jadwiga.--Ah! the lion's forehead frowns, as if my wish were an
insult.