Cayolle-I think, madam, that the theories of M. Giraud are sound, but sound only as to that society in which M. Giraud has lived until now: a world of speculation, whose one object naturally ought to be to make money. As to wealth itself, it brings about infamous things, but it also brings about great and noble things. In that respect it is like human speech: a bad thing for some people, a good thing for others, according to the use they make of it. This obligation of our state of society that makes a man wake up each morning with taking thought of the necessary sum for his personal wants, lest he take what does not belong to him, has created the finest intelligence of all the ages! It is simply to this need of money every day that we owe Franklin, who began the world by being a printer's apprentice; Shakespeare, who used to hold horses at the door of the theatre which later he was going to immortalize; Machiavelli, who was secretary to the Florentine republic at fifteen crowns a month; Raphael, the son of a mere dauber; Jean Jacques Rousseau, a notary's clerk and an engraver,- one who did not have a dinner every day; Fulton, once upon a time a mechanic, who gave us steam: and so many others. Had these same people been born with an income of half a million livres apiece, there would have been a good many chances that not one of them would ever have become what he did become. [To M. Giraud.] This race after wealth, of which you speak, M. Giraud, has good in it: even if it enriches some silly people or some rascals, if it procures for them the consideration of those in a humble station of life,- of the lower classes, of those who have cash relations with society, on the other hand there is a great deal of good in the spur given to faculties which would otherwise remain stationary; enough good to pardon some errors in the distribution of wealth.. Just in proportion as you enter into the true world of society — a world which is almost unknown to you, M. Giraud-you will find that a man who is received there is received only in proportion to his personal value. Look around here where we are, without taking the trouble to go any further, and you will see that money has not the influence you ascribe to it. For proof, here is Countess Savelli, with half a million francs income, who in place of dining out with millionaires besieging her house every day, comes quietly here to dine with our friends the Durieus, people without title, poor people measured by her fortune; and she comes here for the pleasure of meeting M. De Charzay,

who has not more than a thousand crowns income, but who, for all the millionaires in the world, would never do a thing a man ought not to do; and she meets here M. De Roncourt, who has a business of fifteen hundred francs because he gave up his fortune to creditors who were not his own creditors. There is Mademoiselle De Roncourt, who sacrificed her dowry to the same sentiment of honor; yonder is Mademoiselle Durieu, who would never be willing to become the wife of any other than an honest man, even if he had for his rivals all the Crosuses present and to come; and last of ali, one meets me here,a man who has for money (in the acceptation that you give the word) the most profound contempt. Now, M. Giraud, if we listened to you for so long a time, it is because we are well-bred people, and besides, you talk very well; but there has been no flattery for your millions in our attention, and the proof is that everybody has been listening to me a longer time than to you,— listening to me, who have not like you a thousand-franc note to put along with every one of my phrases!

Jean Who is that gentleman who has just been speaking? Duricu-That is M. De Cayolle.

Jean-The railway director?

Durieu - Yes.

Jean [going to M. De Cayolle] M. De Cayolle, I hope you will believe that I am very glad to meet you.

Cayolle I dare say you are, monsieur. [M. De Cayolle as he utters the words turns his back upon Giraud and steps aside.] Translated for A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by E. Irenæus Stevenson

M

M. DE RÉMONIN'S PHILOSOPHY OF MARRIAGE

From L'Étrangère

ADAME DE RUMIÈRES - See here, now, Rémonin, you who claim to explain everything as a learned man - can you solve this proposition? Why is it that with all the quantity of love in this world, there are so many unhappy marriages? M. Rémonin-I could give you a perfect explanation, my dear lady, if you were not a woman.

Madame de Rumières-You mean that the explanation is not decent?

M. Rémonin-No, I mean that it is a matter based on the abstract. It is this. The reason why marriages are rarely happy, in spite of the "quantity of love" in question, is because love and marriage, scientifically considered, have no relationship. They belong to two sorts of things, completely differing. Love is of the physical. Marriage is a matter of chemistry. Madame de Rumières - Explain yourself.

Rémonin-Certainly. Love is an element of the natural evolution of our being; it comes to us of itself in course of our life, at one time or another, independent of all our will, and even without a definite object. The human creature can wish to be in love before really loving any one! . . But marriage is a social combination, an adjustment, that refers itself to chemistry, as I have said; since chemistry concerns itself with the action of one element on another and the phenomena resulting: to the end of bringing about family life, morality, and labor, and in consequence the welfare of man, as involved in all three. Now, so often as you really can conform to the theory of such a blending of things, so long as you happen to have effected in marriage such a combination of the physical and chemical, all goes well; the experiment is happy, it results well. But if you are ignorant or maladroit enough to seek and to make a combination of two refractory chemical forces in the matrimonial experiment, then in the place of a fusion you will find you have only inert forces; and the two elements remain there, together but unfused, eternally opposed to each other, never able to be united! Or else there is not merely inertia- there are

shocks, explosions, catastrophes, accidents, dramas.

Madame de Rumières — Have you ever been in love?

M. Rémonin-I? My dear marquise, I am a scientist - I have never had time! And you?

Madame de Rumières-I have loved my children. M. de Rumières was a charming man all his life; but he didn't expect me really to love him. My son tells me his affairs of the heart; my daughter has already made me a grandmother.

I have little to reproach myself as to my past life, and now I look on at the lives of others, sometimes much interested. I am like the subscribers to the Opéra, who know the whole repertory by heart, but who can always hear some passages with pleasure and who encourage the débutants.

Condensed and translated for A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by E. Irenæus Stevenson.

REFORMING A FATHER

From A Prodigal Father'

[The ensuing dialogue occurs in the first act of the play. The Count de Ravonnières and his son André reside together in their comfortable bachelor's establishment in Paris, and are devotedly attached to one another. The count, unfortunately, has only grown more careless of money, more a gay man of the world, as he has grown older; and blessed with a youthfulness of physique and temperament that nothing impairs, he is as thriftless as he is fascinating. His son, accordingly, has had to be the economist of their resources, which are at a dangerous ebb. As the scene opens, the count is preparing to take luncheon, with Joseph, the confidential servant of the house, in attendance.]

OSEPH Monsieur is served.

JOSEP Count de Ravonnières-Very well. You will please go

to my florist Lemoine, the Opera florist,-you know who I mean, and tell him to send, to-day, with my card,- he has a lot of cards of mine in advance,- to Mademoiselle Albertine de la Borde, 26 or 28 Rue de la Paix-I don't exactly remember the number that the lady gave me

Joseph No. 26.

Count-Ah! You know her address, do you?

Joseph-Yes, sir.

Count - To send her a bouquet of white lilacs and roses. And I don't need you any more: go at once. [Joseph bows, and hands the Count a large envelope.] What's all this?

Joseph-Some law papers that have come in your absence, sir, which I did not think ought to be forwarded to Dieppe.

Count [without taking the papers]-Quite right. Has my son seen them?

Joseph-No, sir.

Count-Very well; don't let him see them.

with the others.

Put them away

Joseph-May I beg monsieur to say a good word for me to his son?

Count-As to what, Joseph ?

Joseph-Your son, sir, has just told me to look out for another situation; and I am so attached to the family

Count - Oh, I will straighten all that out; if my son sends you away I will take you into our service again. Come now, get off to my florist; be quick about it.

As Joseph goes out, André enters. He does not at first perceive his father, but on turning toward the table discovers him.

André-Ah! you are here, are you?

Count-Yes, I have been here during an hour; and moreover, a very agreeable person has been doing the honors of your establishment on my behalf.

André-It is a fine time to talk about agreeable persons! You are a very agreeable person

Count What in the world is the matter with you?

André-I am perfectly furious.

Count - Against whom?

André- Against you.

Count-Why? What have I been doing?

André- You have drawn on me at sight this draft here. Count-Oh yes, I know very well what that means. It comes from London; it is to pay for the boat, you know.

André- Oh yes, it comes from London, and it is to pay for the boat! That is no excuse for it. And what about the boat, if you please?

Count - But my dear fellow, they had no business to present it until the 15th.

André-Well?

Count-Why, to-day is the 15th!

André- You ought to know it.

Count-I thought that to-day was only the 14th! Have you paid it?

André-Of course.

Count

Ah! then I owe you six thousand francs. That's all there is to the matter.

André- Yes, that's all! But you never said a word to me about it; I had no money in the house: I had to send to our man of business. May I beg of you in the future to be so good

as to

Count-Poor boy! poor boy! Really, between ourselves, you would have done a great deal better (as it is a month since you have seen me, and since you are really very fond of me) to embrace me in meeting me again, rather than to say all these things to me that you have been saying!

André [embracing his father heartily]-Oh, of course they make no difference, when it comes to that!