“What is my name to him?” asked the stranger. “Is he acquainted with it? Has the name of a poor peasant of Bauso ever reached the prince’s ears?”
“But I belong to the same country as yourself,” said the countess; “my father was Count of Castel Nuovo, and lived in a little fortress a quarter of a league from the village.”
“I know it, madame,” said the young man, in a low hoarse voice.
“Well, I ought to know your name,” said the countess. “Tell me, then, and I will see what I can do for you.”
“Believe me, madame la comtesse,” said the stranger, “it would be better for you to remain ignorant of it. What does my name signify? I am an honest man. I would make Teresa happy; and if it were necessary, I would sacrifice my life for you or the prince.”
“Your obstinacy is very strange,” said the countess, “and I have a greater desire to know your name than ever, for when I asked Teresa what it was, she, like you, refused to tell me. In the meantime, I warn you that I will not consent to your wishes except on that condition.”
“You wish to know it then, madame?”
“I insist upon it!” said the countess.
“For the last time,” said the stranger, “I beg, I implore you, not to insist upon it.”
“Either name it,” said the countess, in an imperative tone, “or leave me.”