"Monsieur," said she, "it appears you have heard, but not understood me. No familiarity, if you please; let us each remain in our places. Some day I shall give you the right to call me yours; but this right you have not yet."
Ernanton rose, pale and angry.
"Excuse me, madame," said he, "it seems I commit nothing but follies here; I am not yet accustomed to the habits of Paris. Among us in the provinces, 200 leagues off, when a woman says 'I love,' she loves, and does not hold herself aloof, or take pretexts for humiliating the man at her feet. It is your custom as a Parisian, and your right as a princess. I accept it, therefore, only I have not been accustomed to it. The habit, doubtless, will come in time."
"Ah! you are angry, I believe," said the duchess, haughtily.
"I am, madame, but it is against myself; for I have for you, madame, not a passing caprice, but a real love. It is your heart I seek to obtain, and therefore I am angry with myself for having compromised the respect that I owe you, and which I will only change into love when you command me. From this moment, madame, I await your orders."
"Come, come, do not exaggerate, M. de Carmainges; now you are all ice, after being all flame."
"It seems to me, however, madame—"
"A truce to politeness; I do not wish to play the princess. Here is my hand, take it; it is that of a simple woman."
Ernanton took this beautiful hand respectfully.
"Well, you do not kiss it!" cried the duchess; "are you mad, or have you sworn to put me in a passion?"