“Did you not hear, then, that you were summoned?”
“Oh, yes; I heard plainly enough, madame; but I could not come. After your rigors and your refusals, how could I dream it was you? If I could have had any suspicion of the happiness that awaited me, believe me, madame, I would have quitted everything to fall at your feet, as I do at this moment.”
“Are we quite alone, monsieur?” asked the marquise, looking round the room.
“Oh, yes, madame, I can assure you of that.”
“Really?” said the marquise, in a melancholy tone.
“You sigh!” said Fouquet.
“What mysteries! what precautions!” said the marquise, with a slight bitterness of expression; “and how evident it is that you fear the least suspicion of your amours to escape.”
“Would you prefer their being made public?”
“Oh, no; you act like a delicate man,” said the marquise, smiling.
“Come, dear marquise, punish me not with reproaches, I implore you.”