Mr.Rochesterdid,onafutureoccasion,explainit.Itwasoernoon,whenheeetmeandAdèleinthegrounds:andwhilesheplayedwithPilotandhershuttlecock,heaskedmetoanddownalongbeechavehinsightofher.

    HethensaidthatshewasthedaughterofaFrenchopera-dancer,eVarens,towardswhomhehadoncecherishedwhathecalleda“grandepassion.”Thispassionehadprofessedtoreturnwithevensuperiorardour.Hethoughthimselfheridol,uglyashewas:hebelieved,ashesaid,thatshepreferredhis“tailled’athlète”totheelegaheApolloBelvidere.

    “And,MissEyre,somuchwasIflatteredbythisprefereheGallicsylphforherBritishghatIinstalledherinanhotel;gaveherapleteestablishmentofservants,acarriage,cashmeres,diamonds,dentelles,&short,Ibegantheprocessofruiningmyselfinthereceivedstyle,likeanyotherspoony.Ihadnot,itseems,theinalitytochalkoutanewroadtoshamearu,buttrodetheoldtrackwithstupidexaessnottodeviateaninthebeatere.Ihad—asIdeservedtohave—thefateofallotherspoonies.Happeningtocalloneeveningwhenedidnotexpectme,Ifou;butitwasawarmnight,andIwastiredwithstrollingthroughParis,soIsatdowninherboudoir;happytobreathetheairsecratedsolatelybyherpreseno,—Iexaggerate;Ihoughttherewasanysecratingvirtueabouther:itwasratherasortofpastilleperfumeshehadleft;asuskandamber,thananodourofsanctity.Iwasjustbeginningtostiflewiththefumesofservatoryflorinkledessences,whehoughtmyselftoopenthewindowaontothebaly.Itwasmoonlightandgaslightbesides,aillandserehebalywasfurhachairortwo;Isatdown,andtookoutacigar,—Iwilltakeonenow,ifyouwillexcuseme.”

    Hereensuedapause,filledu