"I doubt it would be difficult, and, to say the truth, I do not wish to attempt it. She is not my taste at all. I prefer animation, zeal, sympathy. She looks like a marble statue of Contemplation; well enough in its way, but possessing no interest for me, who am all for practical life."
"Euphrasie is a great thinker, and thought aids practice. You had better enlist her on your side; for there is no saying how much she might assist you, if once she could be brought to see how happy a paradise you have planned for the human race."
But Alfred was by no means anxious for this. He evidently felt that Euphrasie would not listen to him. Perhaps he feared that she would set Annie against himself, and mar his own schemes in her regard; [{40}] for different as was their rank in life, and improbable as it was that Mr. Godfrey should condescend to ally himself with aught save the high aristocracy, this young man intended, if possible, to secure an interest in Annie's affections. Not that he loved her; his self-love was so absorbing that it was almost impossible for him to love any one save himself; but he thought such an alliance would forward his ambitious projects, and enable him to begin life under favorable auspices.
Annie had no idea whatever beyond the amusement of the passing hour, and was more intent just now on making a convert of the young refugee than in paying regard to the homage tendered her by Alfred. Euphrasie was a difficult subject to deal with; but there are some minds to whom difficulty is an incentive.
She was one day sitting in the library with Eugene, intent in depicting on canvas the glories of the "Golden Era." Euphrasie entered, and sat down to some work. Annie called to her:
"Now, my dear Euphrasie, come to me. You are a judge of painting; tell me what you think of my picture."
Euphrasie drew near. "It is very pretty," she said, "but what does it represent? Those peasants resting under the fig-trees, those vine-dressers plucking the beautiful grapes, have very graceful figures, and most happy and intelligent faces; but what do they belong to?"
"To the new Utopia," said Annie, "where all are intelligent and beautiful, and where discord enters not."
Euphrasie looked dreamily in Annie's face, and said doubtingly: "Heaven? This is no picture of heaven."
"No; it is an earthly paradise, ma chère amie. One need not die in order to enjoy it," laughingly rejoined Annie.