during which I returned his steadfast gaze, for I could not help
it, he said:
"If we understand the impression we make upon each other, what
must be said?"

I made no reply, but fanned myself, neither looking at the moon,
nor upon the redowa, nor upon any thing.

He took the fan from me.

"Speak of yourself," he said.

"Speak you."

"I am what I seem, a man within your sphere. By all the accidents
of position and circumstance suited to it. Have you not learned
it?"

"I am not what I seem. I never wore so splendid a dress as this
till tonight, and shall not again."

He gave the fan such a twirl that its slender sticks snapped, and
it dropped like the broken wing of a bird.

"Mr. Uxbridge, that fan belongs to Mrs. Bliss."

He threw it out of the window.

"You have courage, fidelity, and patience--this character with
a passionate soul. I am sure that you have such a soul?"