The Countess and Choulette asked Miss Bell to read to them the verses she was writing.  She excused herself from reciting her uncertain cadence to the French poet, whom she liked best after Francois Villon.  Then she recited in her pretty, hissing, birdlike voice.

“That is very pretty,” said Choulette, “and bears the mark of Italy softly veiled by the mists of Thule.”

“Yes,” said the Countess Martin, “that is pretty.  But why, dear Vivian, did your two beautiful innocents wish to die?”

“Oh, darling, because they felt as happy as possible, and desired nothing more.  It was discouraging, darling, discouraging.  How is it that you do not understand that?”

“And do you think that if we live the reason is that we hope?”

“Oh, yes.  We live in the hope of what to-morrow, tomorrow, king of the land of fairies, will bring in his black mantle studded with stars, flowers, and tears.  Oh, bright king, To-morrow!”

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     A hero must be human.  Napoleon was human
     Anti-Semitism is making fearful progress everywhere
     Brilliancy of a fortune too new
     Curious to know her face of that day
     Do you think that people have not talked about us? 
     Each had regained freedom, but he did not like to be alone
     Fringe which makes an unlovely border to the city
     Gave value to her affability by not squandering it
     He could not imagine that often words are the same as actions
     He does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutes
     He is not intelligent enough to doubt
     He studied until the last moment
     Her husband had become quite bearable
     His habit of pleasing had prolonged his youth
     I feel in them (churches) the grandeur of nothingness
     I gave myself to him because he loved me
     I haven’t a taste, I have tastes
     It was too late:  she did not wish to win
     Knew that life is not worth so much anxiety nor so much hope
     Laughing in every wrinkle of his face
     Learn to live without desire
     Life as a whole is too vast and too remote
     Life is made up of just such trifles
     Life is not a great thing
     Love was only a brief intoxication
     Made life give all it could yield
     Miserable beings who contribute to the grandeur of the past
     None but fools resisted the current
     Not everything is known, but everything is said
     One would think that the wind would put them out:  the stars
     Picturesquely ugly
     Recesses of her mind which she preferred not to open
     Relatives whom she did not know and who irritated her
     She is happy, since she likes to remember
     She pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in it
     Should like better to do an immoral thing than a cruel one
     So well satisfied with