DOMINIE.  You must ask my eldest daughter herself about that.  I have hitherto held the opinion that both of them played correctly, musically, and perhaps finely, and yet both differently:  that is the triumph of a musical education.  But this cheap comparative criticism is already too thoroughly worn out.  Pray what else have you on your mind?

MRS. S. Have you not yet sent your younger daughter to school?  They say your eldest could neither read nor write at fourteen years of age.

DOMINIE.  My daughters always have a private teacher in the house, in connection with whom I instruct them in music, in order that their literary education shall occupy fewer hours, and that they shall have time left for exercise in the open air to invigorate the body; while other children are exhausted with nine hours a day at schools and institutes, and are obliged to pay for this with the loss of their health and the joyousness of youth.

MRS. S. It is very well known that your daughters are obliged to play the whole day long.

DOMINIE.  And not all night too?  You probably might explain their skill in that way.  I am astonished that you have not heard that too, since you have picked up so many shocking stories about me and my daughters.

MRS. S. (dismisses the subject, and asks suddenly).  Now just how old is your daughter Emma?

DOMINIE.  She is just sixteen years and seven weeks old.

MRS. S. Does she speak French?

DOMINIE.  Oui, elle parle Francais, and in musical tones, too,—­a language which is understood all over the world.

MRS. S. But she is so silent!  Does she like to play?

DOMINIE.  You have given her no opportunity to speak, she is certainly not forth-putting.  For the last two years she has taken great pleasure in playing.

MRS. S. You acknowledge, then, that formerly you had to force her to it?

DOMINIE.  In the earlier years of her natural development, as she was a stranger to vanity and other unworthy motives, she certainly played, or rather pursued her serious studies, chiefly from obedience and habit.  Does your daughter of thirteen years old always practise her exercises without being required to do so?  Does she like to go to school every day?  Does she always sew and knit without being reminded of it?

MRS. S. (interrupting).  Oh, I see you are quite in love with your daughters!  But they say you are terribly strict and cruel in the musical education of your children; and, in fact, always.

DOMINIE.  Do you suppose I do this from affection? or do you infer it, because they have proved artists, or because they look so blooming and healthy, or because they write such fine letters, or because they have not grown crooked over embroidery, or because they are so innocent, unaffected, and modest? or—­

MRS. S. (irritably).  We will drop that subject.  But I must give you one piece of good advice.  Do not make your daughter Emma exert herself too much, as you have done with your eldest daughter.