"I have heard that Venice is the seat of all elegance and refinement, and that no man who has not graduated in its school of gallantry is considered perfect in worldly accomplishments."
"Then you perceive that you, who are so ambitious, must go with me to Venice to receive your diploma as a gallant. My heart beats with joyful impatience as I think of the delights that await us. The carnival is to be unusually brilliant this year. The Prince of Hanover, the Margraves of Baireuth and of Baden, the brave commander-in-chief of the republican armies, Morosini, and Admirals Molino and Delphini, are all to be there. Morosini himself has written me an invitation to the carnival, and you must accompany me."
"No, your highness," replied Eugene, seriously. "I have not been invited; there is therefore no reason why I should go."
"But if I tell you that I will consider it as a proof of your friendship," persisted the elector, "then I hope you will no longer refuse me. Indeed, you would do me the greatest favor."
"How could it possibly be a favor?" asked Eugene.
"I will tell you how. I am impulsive and easily led away: YOUR principles are firm as a rock. I have known you for three years, and have closely observed your character, Eugene. You are sensible, honorable, and independent; you are reserved, yet sincere—brave, yet discreet. You are more than all this—you are an honest man, rejoicing in the fame of others, and never blind to worth because of envy or longing for notoriety."
"My dear, dear friend," interrupted Eugene, "you overrate me beyond- -"
"No, I do not overrate you," was the elector's reply. "I appreciate you—that is all; and I want you for a counsellor. You know how a reigning prince is surrounded by flatterers; how his follies are heralded to the world as virtues; and, above all, you know how many snares are spread for such a gilded butterfly by artful women, who long, not only for his heart, but for his gold; above all, when he calls himself a prince, and is the son-in-law of an emperor."
"You have a poor opinion of women," smiled Eugene.
"They have given me no reason to think well of them. I know the whole sex to be fickle, coquettish, and heartless; and yet I am forever being led astray by their siren voices. And when the wicked enchantresses smile and swear that they love me, I am ravished— albeit, I know that every word they utter is a lie."