thousand dollars into a fancy, and I continued to walk."
"It is marvellous, Max. But do you know what it is necessary to do in order to continue undisturbed in that good resolution? It is necessary for you to marry."
"Ah! for me to marry? Why not? But who would have me? I, who have no right to be particular, I should wish for a wife— Oh! no, there is no one left who pleases me."
Madame de Piennes coloured slightly, and he continued without noticing it:
"A woman who would care for me—but don't you know, madam, that that would be almost a reason why I should not care for her?"
"Why so? How foolish!"
"Does not Othello say somewhere,—it is, I believe, to justify himself for the suspicions which he has against Desdemona: 'That woman must have a silly head and depraved tastes to have chosen me, me who am black!' Should I not say in turn: The woman who would care for me must have a strange head?"
"You have been bad enough, Max, to make it needless to picture yourself to be worse than you are. Do not speak so slightingly of yourself, for there are people who might take you at your word. For myself, I am sure, if some day
