“Quite right, Marian,” said Laura.  “Well thought of, and well expressed.”

“Pray allow the Count to proceed,” said Madame Fosco, with stern civility.  “You will find, young ladies, that he never speaks without having excellent reasons for all that he says.”

“Thank you, my angel,” replied the Count.  “Have a bon-bon?” He took out of his pocket a pretty little inlaid box, and placed it open on the table.  “Chocolat a la Vanille,” cried the impenetrable man, cheerfully rattling the sweetmeats in the box, and bowing all round.  “Offered by Fosco as an act of homage to the charming society.”

“Be good enough to go on, Count,” said his wife, with a spiteful reference to myself.  “Oblige me by answering Miss Halcombe.”

“Miss Halcombe is unanswerable,” replied the polite Italian; “that is to say, so far as she goes.  Yes!  I agree with her.  John Bull does abhor the crimes of John Chinaman.  He is the quickest old gentleman at finding out faults that are his neighbours’, and the slowest old gentleman at finding out the faults that are his own, who exists on the face of creation.  Is he so very much better in this way than the people whom he condemns in their way?  English Society, Miss Halcombe, is as often the accomplice as it is the enemy of crime.  Yes! yes!  Crime is in this country what crime is in other countries—­a good friend to a man and to those about him as often as it is an enemy.  A great rascal provides for his wife and family.  The worse he is the more he makes them the objects for your sympathy.  He often provides also for himself.  A profligate spendthrift who is always borrowing money will get more from his friends than the rigidly honest man who only borrows of them once, under pressure of the direst want.  In the one case the friends will not be at all surprised, and they will give.  In the other case they will be very much surprised, and they will hesitate.  Is the prison that Mr. Scoundrel lives in at the end of his career a more uncomfortable place than the workhouse that Mr. Honesty lives in at the end of his career?  When John-Howard-Philanthropist wants to relieve misery he goes to find it in prisons, where crime is wretched—­not in huts and hovels, where virtue is wretched too.  Who is the English poet who has won the most universal sympathy—­who makes the easiest of all subjects for pathetic writing and pathetic painting?  That nice young person who began life with a forgery, and ended it by a suicide—­your dear, romantic, interesting Chatterton.  Which gets on best, do you think, of two poor starving dressmakers—­the woman who resists temptation and is honest, or the woman who falls under temptation and steals?  You all know that the stealing is the making of that second woman’s fortune—­it advertises her from length to breadth of good-humoured, charitable England—­and she is relieved, as the breaker of a commandment, when she would have been left to