“Too much! I shall never have enough of you. I shall hate the night which will rob me of the sight of you for so many hours in the twenty-four.”
“If you can’t see me, perhaps you may hear me; my tongue runs by night as well as by day.”
“Well, that is a comfort,” said Edouard, gravely. “Yes, little quizzer, I would rather hear you scold than an angel sing. Judge, then, what music it is when you say you love me!”
“I love you, Edouard.”
Edouard kissed her hand warmly, and then looked irresolutely at her face.
“No, no!” said she, laughing and blushing. “How rude you are. Next time we meet.”
“That is a bargain. But I won’t go till you say you love me again.
“Edouard, don’t be silly. I am ashamed of saying the same thing so often—I won’t say it any more. What is the use? You know I love you. There, I HAVE said it: how stupid!”
“Adieu, then, my wife that is to be.”
“Adieu! dear Edouard.”