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 fancy: some love; some pity, but none fear Calantha. Your very servants, though you boast of their attachment, despise and laugh at you. Your husband caresses you as a mistress, but of your conduct he takes not even heed. What is the affection of the crowd? what the love of man? make yourself feared! Then, if you are not esteemed, at least you are outwardly honoured, and that reserve, that self-controul, which you never sought even to obtain, keeps ordinary minds in alarm. Many hate me; but who dares even name me without respect. Yourself, Calantha, even at this moment, are ready to fall upon my bosom and weep, because I have offended you. Come child—your hand. I fain would save you, but you must hear much that pains you, before I can hope even to succeed. Only remember: 'si vous vous faites brebi le loup vous mangera. She smiled as she said this, and Calantha, half offended, gave her the hand for which she solicited.