128 IN A WINTER CITY.
is what all you people caU love; I am content
enough to have no knowledge of it------"
" Good gracious, Hilda! " said Madame Mila,
with wide-open eyes of absolute amazement;
" you talk as if you were one of the angry hus¬
bands in a comedy of FeuiUet or Dumas. I don't
think you know anything about it at aU; how
should you ? You only admfre yourself, and like
art and aU that kind of thing, and are as cold as
ice to everj'body. 'A la place du coeur, vous
n'avez qu'un caUlou;' I've read that somewhere."
" ' EUe n'a qu'un ecusson,'" corrected Lady
HUda, her serenity returning. "If Hugo had
known much about women he would have said—
'qu'un chiffon ; * but perhaps a dissyUable
wouldn't have scanned------"
" You never wiU convince me," continued
Madame de Caviare, "that you would not be a
happier woman if you had what you caU senses
and the rest of it. One can't Uve without sensa¬
tions and emotions of some sort. You never feel
any except before a bit of Kronenthal china or a
triptych of some old fogey of a painter. You do care
ftwfaUy about your horses to be sure>, but then as