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"Exactly, lars, al his nails into his breast, while he preserved on his harsh features the sh clever enie

"Yes, ruined! Now it is revealed, this secret so full of horror, as the tragic poet says Now, hter, learn from my lips how you may alleviate this enie, "you are a bad physiognoine I deplore on my own account the catastrophe of which you warn nify to me? Have I not my talent left? Can I not, like Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, acquire for ht have been your fortune, a hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand livres per annum, for which I shall be indebted to no one but ave me those poor twelve thousand francs, with sour looks and reproaches for ality, will be accompanied with acclamations, with bravos, and with flowers? And if I do not possess that talent, which your smiles prove to me you doubt, should I not still have that ardent love of independence, which will be a substitute for wealth, and which in my mind supersedes even the instinct of self-preservation? No, I grieve not on my own account, I shall always find a resource; s which cost but little, and which I shall be able to procure, will relars? Undeceive yourself again; either I aainst the catastrophe which threatens you, and, which will pass over without affecting her She has taken care for herself,--at least I hope so,--for her attention has not been diverted fro overmy love for liberty Oh, no, sir; from my childhood I have seen too much, and understood too much, of what has passed around me, for misfortune to have an undue power over me From my earliest recollections, I have been beloved by no one--so much the worse; that has naturally led me to love no one--so much the better--now you have lars, pale with anger, which was not at all due to offended paternal love,--"then, mademoiselle, you persist in your determination to accelerate my ruin?"