with her and have led a simple, blameless life.

But the stage villain is built cussed.

He ill-uses this female most shockingly--not for any cause or motive
whatever; indeed, his own practical interests should prompt him to
treat her well and keep friends with her--but from the natural
cussedness to which we have just alluded. When he speaks to her he
seizes her by the wrist and breathes what he's got to say into her
ear, and it tickles and revolts her.

The only thing in which he is good to her is in the matter of dress.
He does not stint her in dress.

The stage villain is superior to the villain of real life. The
villain of real life is actuated by mere sordid and selfish motives.
The stage villain does villainy, not for any personal advantage to
himself, but merely from the love of the thing as an art. Villainy is
to him its own reward; he revels in it.

"Better far be poor and villainous," he says to himself, "than possess
all the wealth of the Indies with a clear conscience. I will be a
villain," he cries. "I will, at great expense and inconvenience to
myself, murder the good old man, get the hero accused of the crime,
and make love to his wife while he is in prison. It will be a risky
and laborious business for me from beginning to end, and can bring me
no practical advantage whatever. The girl will call me insulting
names when I pay her a visit, and will push me violently in the chest
when I get near her; her golden-haired infant will say I am a bad man
and may even refuse to kiss me. The comic man will cover me with