ful to think that Circumstance had not at the same time created the
girl of noble birth, or with an instinct for spiritual elegance. But the
world is imperfect.

Presently he became aware that she was understood to be singing
pointedly to him: upon which he dismissed the council of his sensations,
and began to diplomatize cleverly. Leaning over to Adela, he whispered:

"Pericles wants her to go to Italy. My belief is, that she won't."

"And why?" returned Adela, archly reproachful.

"Well, we've been spoiling her a little, perhaps. I mean, we men, of
course. But, I really don't think that I'm chiefly to blame. You won't
allow Captain Gambier to be in fault, I know."

"Why not?" said Adela.

"Well, if you will, then he is the principal offender."

Adela acted disbelief; but, unprepared for her brother's perfectly
feminine audacity of dissimulation, she thought: "He can't be in
earnest about the girl," and was led to fancy that Gambier might, and to
determine to see whether it was so.

By this manoeuvre, Wilfrid prepared for himself a defender when the
charge was brought against him.

Mr. Pericles was thunderstruck on hearing Emilia refuse to go to Italy.
A scene of tragic denunciation on the one hand, and stubborn decision on
the other, ensued.

"I shall not mind zis" (he spoke of Love and the awakening of the female
heart) "not when you are trained. It is good, zen, and you have fire
from it. But, now! little fool, I say, it is too airly--too airly! How
shall you learn--eh? with your brain upon a man? And your voice, little
fool, a thing of caprice, zat comes and goes as he will, not you will.
Hein? like a barrel-organ, which he turns ze handle.--Mon Dieu! Why did
I leave her?" Mr. Pericles struck his brow with his wrist, clutching at
the long thin slice of hair that did greasy duty for the departed crop
on his poll. "Did I not know it was a woman? And so you are, what you
say, in lofe."

Emilia replied: "I have not said so," with exasperating coolness.

"You have your eye on a man. And I know him, zat man! When he is tired
of you--whiff, away you go, a puff of smoke! And you zat I should make
a Queen of Opera! A Queen? You shall have more rule zan twenty
Queens--forty! See" (Mr. Pericles made his hand go like an aspen-leaf
from his uplifted wrist); "So you shall set ze hearts of sossands! To
dream of you, to adore you! and flowers, flowers everywhere, on your
head, at your feet. You choose your lofer from