"None, my Susie, none, absolutely none. Why should I not tell you the
truth? Is it their fault? Have they gone unskilfully to work? Could
they, in managing better, have found the way to my heart? or is the
fault in me? Is it perhaps, that the way to my heart is a steep, rocky,
inaccessible way, by which no one will ever pass? Am I a horrid little
creature, and, cold, and condemned never to love?"

"I do not think so."

"Neither do I, but up to the present time that is my history. No, I have
never felt anything which resembled love. You are laughing, and I can
guess why. You are saying to yourself, 'A little girl like that
pretending to know what love is!' You are right; I do not know, but I
have a pretty good idea. To love--is it not to prefer to all in the
world one certain person?"

"Yes; it is really that."

"Is it not never to weary of seeing that person, or of hearing him? Is
it not to cease to live when he is not there, and to immediately begin to
revive when he reappears?"

"Oh, but this is romantic love."

"Well, that is the love of which I dream, and that is the love which does
not come--not at all till now; and yet that person preferred by me to all
and everything does exist. Do you know who it is?"

"No, I do not know; I do not know, but I have a little suspicion."