"Because I can never love any one."
"No one?" asked Henri tenderly.
"You have said it. I consider love as a dangerous malady, against which one should be on guard."
"A malady rarely fatal," said Henri smiling.
"No matter; I am afraid of it."
"A bad sign. It is said that there is much more danger of taking typhus or cholera when one fears it. It is a bad omen! Jacob"--
"Why, monsieur, why do you speak to me of this philosopher, this savant?"
"Hardly a philosopher: a mystic, a fanatic."
"Who flies from me," said Muse. "Help me, then, to tame him a little. I would like to talk with this savage."
"What would I not do for you, mademoiselle? I will bring him to your feet, be sure of that."