How often, in your high insular presence, have I taken a pleasure in trampling upon, what you are pleased to call, my dignity; tearing it, scattering it to the winds, in those mad transports you witness with such hauteur, and which I know you think very like the ravings of a third-rate London actor."
"Monsieur, I tell you every glance you cast from that lattice is a wrong done to the best part of your own nature. To study the human heart thus, is to banquet secretly and sacreligiously on Eve's apples. I wish you were a Protestant."
Indifferent to the wish, he smoked on. After a space of smiling yet thoughtful silence, he said, rather suddenly—
"I have seen other things."
"What other things?"
Taking the weed from his lips, he threw the remnant amongst the shrubs, where, for a moment, it lay glowing in the gloom.
"Look at it," said he: "is not that spark like an eye watching you and me."
He took a turn down the walk; presently returning, he went on:
"I have seen, Miss Lucy, things to me unac-
