with children?"

The thought had scarcely passed through my mind when I heard a scream of
agony. Margrave had leaped the railing that divided the meadow from the
road, and, in so doing, the poor child, perched on his shoulder, had,
perhaps from surprise or fright, loosened its hold and fallen heavily; its
cries were piteous. Margrave clapped his hands to his ears, uttered an
exclamation of anger, and not even stopping to lift up the boy, or examine
what the hurt was, called to the other children to come on, and was soon
rolling with them on the grass, and pelting them with daisies. When I
came up, only one child remained by the sufferer,-his little brother, a
year older than himself. The child had fallen on his arm, which was not
broken, but violently contused. The pain must have been intense. I
carried the child to his home, and had to remain there some time. I did
not see Margrave till the next morning. When he then called, I felt so
indignant that I could scarcely speak to him. When at last I rebuked
him for his inhumanity, he seemed surprised; with difficulty remembered
the circumstance, and then merely said, as if it were the most natural
confession in the world,

"Oh, nothing so discordant as a child's wail. I hate discords. I am
pleased with the company of children; but they must be children who laugh
and play. Well, why do you look at me so sternly? What have I said to
shock you?"

"Shock me! you shock manhood itself! Go; I cannot talk to you now. I am
busy."

But he did not go; and his voice was so sweet, and his ways so winning,
that disgust insensibly melted into that sort of forgiveness one accords