"Poor Minna!" said she.
"I never bring any weapons!" cried Wilfrid.
"You are in a detestable temper," said Seraphita, smiling. "Have I not spoken nicely, like the Parisian ladies of whom you tell me love stories?"
Wilfrid sat down, folded his arms, and looked gloomily at Seraphita.
"I forgive you," said he, "for you know not what you do."
"Oh!" retorted she, "every woman from Eve downwards knows when she is doing good or evil."
"I believe it," said he.
"I am sure of it, Wilfrid. Our intuition is just what makes us so perfect. What you men have to learn, we feel."
"Why, then, do you not feel how much I love you?"
"Because you do not love me."