“Men can be just as original now as ever,” said La Signora, “if they had but the courage, even the insight.  Heroic souls in old times had no more opportunities than we have:  but they used them.  There were daring deeds to be done then—­are there none now?  Sacrifices to be made—­are there none now?  Wrongs to be redressed—­are there none now?  Let any one set his heart, in these days, to do what is right, and nothing else; and it will not be long ere his brow is stamped with all that goes to make up the heroical expression—­with noble indignation, noble self-restraint, great hopes, great sorrows; perhaps, even, with the print of the martyr’s crown of thorns.”

She looked at Stangrave as she spoke, with an expression which Scoutbush tried in vain to read.  The American made no answer, and seemed to hang his head awhile.  After a minute he said tenderly:—­

“You will tire yourself if you talk thus, after the evening’s fatigue.  Mrs. Mellot will sing to us, and give us leisure to think over our lesson.”

And Sabina sang; and then Lord Scoutbush was made to sing; and sang his best, no doubt.

So the evening slipt on, till it was past eleven o’clock, and Stangrave rose.  “And now,” said he, “I must go to Lady M——­’s ball; and Marie must rest.”

As he went, he just leaned over La Cordifiamma.

“Shall I come in to-morrow morning?  We ought to read over that scene together before the rehearsal.”

“Early then, or Sabina will be gone out; and she must play soubrette to our hero and heroine.”

“You will rest?  Mrs. Mellot, you will see that she does not sit up.”

“It is not very polite to rob us of her, as soon as you cannot enjoy her yourself.”

“I must take care of people who do not take care of themselves;” and Stangrave departed.

Great was Scoutbush’s wrath when he saw Marie rise and obey orders.  “Who was this man? what right had he to command her?”

He asked as much of Sabina the moment La Cordifiamma had retired.

“Are you not going to Lady M——­ ’s, too?”

“No; that is, I won’t go yet; not till you have explained all this to me.”

“Explained what?” asked Sabina, looking as demure as a little brown mouse.

“Why, what did you ask me here for?”

“Lord Scoutbush should recollect that he asked himself.”

“You cruel venomous creature! do you think I would have come, if I had known that I was to see another man making love to her before my very eyes?  I could kill the fellow;—­who is he?”

“A New York merchant, unworthy of your aristocratic powder and ball.”

“The confounded Yankee!” muttered Scoutbush.

“If people swear in my house, I fine them a dozen of kid gloves.  Did you not promise me that you would not make love to her yourself?”

“Well—­but, it is too cruel of you, before my very eyes.”

“I saw no love-making to-night.”