"And that suggests an idea," said she, thoughtfully, her chin upon
her hand.

"Which is?"

"That my wealth is ill-fortune," she went on, with a sigh. "Men
and women are fighting and toiling and bleeding and dying to make
the world better, and I--I am just a lady, fussing, primping,
peering into a looking-glass! I should like to do something, but
they think I am too good--too holy."

"But it is a hard business--the labors and quarrels of the great
world," I suggested.

"Well--it is God's business," she continued. "And am I not one of
his children, and 'wist ye not that I must be about my Father's
business?' It was not too good for the man who said that."

"But what would you do?"

"I do not know. I suppose I can do nothing because--alas! because
my father has bought my obedience with a million francs. Do you
not see that I am in bondage?"

"Be patient; the life of a rich demoiselle is not barren of
opportunity."

"To be gay--oh! one might as well be a peacock; to say pretty
things, one might better be a well-trained parrot; to grace the