Madeleine interrupted him.
"Now that you are aware who I am and what I am, my lord, it becomes easier to dissipate any illusion which owes its origin to a mystery with which you were pleased to surround me."
"To exchange my illusions, perhaps, for others, more captivating, more poetic," resumed the nobleman.
"Do you talk of poetry, my lord, to a mantua-maker?"
"Say, rather, to one who, in spite of her vocation, inspires me with the most absolute veneration. I swear to you—But no, my actions, not my words, must prove my admiration. You shall find me ever at your command. I shall count it the greatest happiness of my life to devote myself to your service."
"My lord, you tempt me to put your words to the test."
"Do so, I pray you. It is what I most desire."
"By a singular chance," said Madeleine, "one of those marvellous coincidences which sometimes occur in real life, but which look like fiction when they are related in books, an opportunity presents itself that may enable you to prove the sincerity of your protestations. You must understand that I am a woman of business. But that is easily comprehended, as I am a woman who toils for her daily bread. I take great interest in the decision of the committee of a certain railroad company, one of the members of which I desire to influence."
Lord Linden looked stupefied, and almost as if he thought Madeleine were making a jest of him. But her grave manner contradicted that suggestion.
She went on as tranquilly as before,—