y.

But he repeated: "I tell you, I cannot."

They thought he was excusing himself out of gallantry, and several of
them exclaimed, almost with tears of emotion: "Women are all heart!" And
the same voice that had spoken before, (it was one of the girls who
wished to settle the matter amicably), said: "We must draw lots."

"Yes, yes, that is it," they all cried. And again there was a religious
silence, more religious than before, for it wras caused by anxiety, and
the beatings of their hearts may have been heard.

The singer profited by it, to say slowly: "I cannot have that either;
nor all of you at once, nor one after the other; nothing! I tell you
that I cannot."

"Why? Why?" And now they were almost screaming, for they were angry and
sorry at the same time. Their cheeks had gone from scarlet to livid,
their eyes flashed fire, and some shook their fists menacingly.

"Silence!" the girl cried, who had spoken first. "Be quiet, you pack of
huzzys! Let him explain himself, and tell us why!"

"Yes, yes, let us be quiet! Make him explain himself in God's name!"

Then, in the fierce silence that ensued, the singer said, opening his
arms wide, with a gesture of despairing inability to do what they
wanted:

"What do you want? It is very amusing, but I cannot do more. I have two
girls of my own already, at home."

PROFITABLE BUSINESS

He certainly did not think himself a saint, nor had he any hypocritical
pretensions to virtue, but, nevertheless, he thought as highly of
himself as much as he did of anybody else, and perhaps, even a trifle
more highly. And that, quite impartially, without any more self love
than was necessary, and without his having to accuse himself of being
self conceited. He did himself justice, that was all, for he had good
moral principles, and he applied them, especially, if the truth must be
told, not only to judging the conduct of others, but also, it must be
allowed, in a measure for regulating his own conduct, as he would have
been very vexed if he had been able to think of himself:

"On the whole, I am what people call a perfectly honorable man."

Luckily, he had never (oh! never), been obliged to doubt that excellent
opinion which he had of himself, which he liked to express thus, in his
moments of rhetorical expansion:

"My whole life gives me the right to shake hands with myself."

Perhaps a subtle psychologist would have found some flaws in this armor
of integrity, which