“The whole matter is going to fail,” he began. “Louise Vanderkelkov has fallen ill⁠—at least so her ridiculous mother asserts; for my part, I feel sure she might play if she would: it is only goodwill that lacks. She was charged with a role, as you know, or do not know⁠—it is equal: without that role the play is stopped. There are now but a few hours in which to learn it: not a girl in this school would hear reason, and accept the task. Forsooth, it is not an interesting, not an amiable, part; their vile amour-propre⁠—that base quality of which women have so much⁠—would revolt from it. Englishwomen are either the best or the worst of their sex. Dieu sait que je les déteste comme la peste, ordinairement ” 71 (this between his recreant teeth). “I apply to an Englishwoman to rescue me. What is her answer⁠—Yes, or No?”