“A cardinal cannot go to a ball at the Opera, countess. It is as if I proposed to you to go into a public-house.”
“Then a cardinal does not dance, I suppose?”
“Oh no!”
“But I have read that M. le Cardinal de Richelieu danced a saraband.”
“Yes, before Anne of Austria.”
“Before a queen,” repeated Jeanne. “Perhaps you would do as much for a queen?”
The cardinal could not help blushing, dissembler as he was.
“Is it not natural,” she continued, “that I should feel hurt when, after all your protestations, you will not do as much for me as you would for a queen?—especially when I only ask you to go concealed in a domino and a mask; besides, a man like you, who may do anything with impunity!”
The cardinal yielded to her flattery and her blandishments. Taking her hand, he said, “For you I will do anything, even the impossible.”
“Thanks, monseigneur; you are really amiable. But now you have consented, I will let you off.”