love in yourself for anyone--what would be the use of it all? Think,
Madonna!"

She raised her delicate eyebrows in a little surprise,--a faint
smile was on her lips.

"Dear Marchese, I DO think! I HAVE thought!" she answered--"And I
have observed! Love--such as I imagined it when I was quite a young
girl--does not exist. The passion called by that name is too petty
and personal for me. Men have made love to me often--not as prettily
perhaps as you do!--but in America at least love means dollars! Yes,
truly! Any man would love my dollars, and take me with them, just
thrown in! You, perhaps--"

"I should love you if you were quite poor!" he interposed
vehemently.

She laughed.

"Would you? Don't be angry if I doubt it! If I were 'quite poor' I
could not have given you your big commission here--this house would
not have been restored to its former beauty, and the White Eagle
would be still a bird of the brain and not of the air! No, you very
charming Marchese!--I should not have the same fascination for you
without my dollars!--and I may tell you that the only man I ever
felt disposed to like,--just a little,--is a kind of rude brute who
despises my dollars and me!"

His brows knitted involuntarily.