"To hear that, and only be able to consume in powerless rage!"

"How little wit you have! never, perhaps, have I said anything to you more
tender."

"Scoff--scoff."

"I do not scoff; I have never seen a man of your age so much in love; and,
it must be acknowledged, that a young and handsome man would be incapable
of such mad passion. An Adonis admires himself as much as he admires us; he
loves on the end of his teeth; and then to love him is his due, hardly is
he grateful; but to love a man like you, my master, oh! that would be to
raise him from earth to heaven; it would be to accomplish his wildest
dreams, his hopes the most extravagent. For, in fine, the being would say
to you, 'You love Cecily madly; if I wish it, she shall be yours'--you
would believe such a being endowed with supernatural powers, would you not,
dear master?"

"Yes, oh! yes."

"Well! if you knew how to convince me better of your passion, I should
have, perhaps, the fantasy to play myself, in your favor, this supernatural
part. Do you comprehend?"

"I comprehend that you scoff at me still, always, and without pity."

"Perhaps solitude creates such strange fantasies."

Her tone, until then, had been sardonic; but she pronounced these last