"Anima mia, I don't see how the difference of your eyes will alter the
object they look upon!" grumbled Riccabocca, shaking the ashes out of his
pipe.

"The object alters when we see it in a different point of view!" replied
Jemima, modestly. "This thread does very well when I look at it in order
to sew on a button, but I should say it would never do to tie up Pompey
in his Kennel."

"Reasoning by illustration, upon my soul!" ejaculated Riccabocca, amazed.

"And," continued Jemima, "when I am to regard one who is to constitute
the happiness of that dear child, and for life, can I regard him as I
would the pleasant guest of an evening? Ah, trust me, Alphonso; I don't
pretend to be wise like you; but when a woman considers what a man is
likely to prove to woman,--his sincerity, his honour, his heart,--oh,
trust me, she is wiser than the wisest man!"

Riccabocca continued to gaze on Jemima with unaffected admiration and
surprise. And certainly, to use his phrase, since he had unbosomed
himself to his better half, since he had confided in her, consulted with
her, her sense had seemed to quicken, her whole mind to expand.

"My dear," said the sage, "I vow and declare that Machiavelli was a fool
to you. And I have been as dull as the chair I sit upon, to deny myself
so many years the comfort and counsel of such a--But, /corpo di Bacco!/
forget all about rank; and so now to bed.--One must not holloa till one's
out of the wood," muttered the ungrateful, suspicious villain, as he
lighted the chamber candle.