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The love of mischief had in his breast no other rival than the love of pleasure & when mischief was the means & pleasure the end, he thought he had nothing [[underline]] further to ask [[/underline]] of fortune. her thoughts were in all the tumult of activity, nor could she remain stationary -- she began to walk up & down the room with a quick pace -- 'twas impossible to rest in idleness. Those whose fate it has been to seek any advantage, know, that (however small) it is not to be obtained but after many disappointments, [[deletion]] for [[/deletion]] all the world seems then engaged in the same
