Clorinde—­I do not dishonor it.  There is no reason why I should leave it.  I have already proved my sincerity by high-minded and generous acts.  I bear myself as my place demands.  My conscience is at rest.

Celie—­Your good action—­for I believe you—­is only the beginning of expiation.  Virtue seems to me like a holy temple.  You may leave it by a door with a single step, but to enter again you must climb up a hundred on your knees, beating your breast.

Clorinde—­How rigid you all are, and how your parents train their first-born never to open the ranks!  Oh, fortunate race! impenetrable phalanx of respectability, who make it impossible for the sinner to reform!  You keep the way of repentance so rough that the foot of poor humanity cannot tread it.  God will demand from you the lost souls whom your hardness has driven back to sin.

Celie—­God, do you say?  When good people forgive they betray his justice.  For punishment is not retribution only, but the acknowledgment and recompense of those fighting ones that brave hunger and cold in a garret, Madame, yet do not surrender.

Clorinde—­Go, child!  I cannot bear more—­

Celie—­I have said more than I meant to say.  Good-by.  This is the first and last time that I shall ever speak of this.

[She goes.]

A CONTENTED IDLER

From ‘M.  Poirier’s Son-in-Law’

[The party are leaving the dining-room.]

Gaston—­Well, Hector!  What do you think of it?  The house is just as you see it now, every day in the year.  Do you believe there is a happier man in the world than I?

Duke—­Faith!  I envy you; you reconcile me to marriage.

Antoinette [in a low voice to Verdelet]—­Monsieur de Montmeyran is a charming young man!

Verdelet [in a low voice]—­He pleases me.

Gaston [to Poirier, who comes in last]—­Monsieur Poirier, I must tell you once for all how much I esteem you.  Don’t think I’m ungrateful.

Poirier—­Oh!  Monsieur!

Gaston—­Why the devil don’t you call me Gaston?  And you, too, dear Monsieur Verdelet, I’m very glad to see you.

Antoinette—­He is one of the family, Gaston.

Gaston—­Shake hands then, Uncle.

Verdelet [aside, giving him his hand]—­He’s not a bad fellow.

Gaston—­Agree, Hector, that I’ve been lucky.  Monsieur Poirier, I feel guilty.  You make my life one long fete and never give me a chance in return.  Try to think of something I can do for you.

Poirier—­Very well, if that’s the way you feel, give me a quarter of an hour.  I should like to have a serious talk with you.

Duke—­I’ll withdraw.

Poirier—­No, stay, Monsieur.  We are going to hold a kind of family council.  Neither you nor Verdelet will be in the way.