“Take care, Bussy; you will make me think it is with her you are in love.”
“If it were so, you will confess, at least, that I am a lover not much to be feared.”
“True,” said St. Luc, remembering how Bussy had brought him his wife. “But confess, your heart is occupied.”
“I avow it.”
“By a love, or by a caprice?” asked Jeanne.
“By a passion, madame.”
“I will cure you.”
“I do not believe it.”
“I will marry you.”
“I doubt it.”