"Really," said the lady, coloring a little under Ernanton's ardent gaze.
Ernanton bowed.
"Take care, monsieur," said she, laughing, "you are making a declaration of love."
"Yes, madame; I do not know if I may ever see you again, and the opportunity is too precious for me to let it slip."
"Then, monsieur, I understand."
"That I love you, madame; that is easy to understand."
"No, but how you came here."
"Ah, pardon, madame, but now it is I who do not understand."
"I think that, wishing to see me again, you invented a pretext to get in."
"I, madame! you judge me ill. I was ignorant if I should ever see you again, and I hoped only from chance, which already had twice thrown me in your way; but invent a pretext I could never do. I am strange, perhaps; I do not think like all the world."