I felt the agitation of the heart, I saw “the purple light of love” cast its glowing reflection on cheeks, temples, neck; I desired to consult the eye, but sheltering lash and lid forbade.
“Monsieur,” said the soft voice at last,—“Monsieur désire savoir si je consens—si—enfin, si je veux me marier avec lui?”
“Justement.”
“Monsieur sera-t-il aussi bon mari qu’il a été bon maître?”
“I will try, Frances.”
A pause; then with a new, yet still subdued inflexion of the voice—an inflexion which provoked while it pleased me—accompanied, too, by a “sourire à la fois fin et timide” in perfect harmony with the tone:—
“C’est à dire, monsieur sera toujours un peu entêté exigeant, volontaire—?”
“Have I been so, Frances?”
“Mais oui; vous le savez bien.”
“Have I been nothing else?”