will you? Can you still love me?"

"Come to me, sweet lady--here, close to my heart. Do you remember how
nice it was, not long ago, when you cried in my arms, and how it
relieved you? Tell me what the matter is now. You are not angry with
me?"

"I am angry with myself. I could beat myself! To be sure, it would
have served you right. And if ever again, sir, you conduct yourself so
like a husband, I shall take better care that you find me like a wife.
You may be assured of that. I cannot help laughing, it took me so by
surprise. But do not imagine, sir, that you are so terribly
lovable--this time it was by my own will that I broke my resolution."

"The first will and the last is always the best. It is just because
women usually say less than they mean that they sometimes do more than
they intend. That is no more than right; good will leads you women
astray. Good will is a very nice thing, but the bad part of it is that
it is always there, even when you do not want it."

"That is a beautiful mistake. But you men are full of bad will and you
persist in it."

"Oh no! If we seem to be obstinate, it is only because we cannot be
otherwise, not because our will is bad. We cannot, because we do not
will properly. Hence it is not bad will, but lack of will. And to whom
is the fault attributable but to you women, who have such a
super-abundance of good will and keep it all to yourselves, unwilling
to share it with us. But it happened quite against my will that we
fell a-talking about will--I am sure I do not know why we are doing
it. Still, it is much better for me to vent my feelings by talking
than by smashing the beautiful chinaware. It gave me a chance to
recover from my astonishment over your unexpected compunction, your
excellent discourse, and your laudable resolution. Really, this is one
of the strangest pranks that you have ever given me the honor of
witnessing; so far as I can remember, it has been several weeks since
you have talked by daylight in such solemn and unctuous periods as you
used in your little sermon today. Would you mind translating your
meaning into prose?"

"Really, have you forgotten already about yesterday evening and the
interesting company? Of course I did not know that."

"Oh! And so that is why you are so out of sorts--because I talked with
Amalia too much?"

"Talk as much as you please with anybody you please. But you must be
nice to me--that I insist on."

"You spoke so very loud; the