“Now, then,” said Oliva’s companion, turning to her, “we will begin to enjoy ourselves a little.”
“I hope so, for you have twice made me sad: first by taking away Beausire, and then by speaking of Gilbert.”
“I will be both Gilbert and Beausire to you,” said the unknown.
“Oh!” sighed Oliva.
“I do not ask you to love me, remember; I only ask you to accept the life I offer you—that is, the accomplishment of all your desires, provided occasionally you give way to mine. Just now I have one.”
“What?”
“That black domino that you see there is a German of my acquaintance, who refused to come to the ball with me, saying he was not well; and now he is here, and a lady with him.”
“Who is she?”
“I do not know. We will approach them; I will pretend that you are a German, and you must not speak, for fear of being found out. Now, pretend to point him out to me with the end of your fan.”
“Like that?”