"Now? Ah, Master James, Master James, no more of your wicked pleasantries," cries Angela, with a frightened air.
"No, it is not a dead man, a ghost, but a very living pretender who demands your hand in marriage."
"He wishes to marry me?"
"He wishes to marry you."
"Oh, the unhappy wretch! is he then weary of life?" cried Angela, laughing.
Mirette, at these words, makes the sign of the cross while superintending the spreading of the board by two other mulattresses who are carrying bottles of Bohemian glass, engraved with golden arabesques, and plates of the most magnificent Japanese porcelain.
Blue Beard continues, "This lover of mine is not a countryman, then?"
"By no means! for in spite of your wealth, my dear, I defy you to find a fourth husband, thanks to your diabolical reputation."
"Where does he come from, this would-be husband, my dear James?"
"From France."