"My God, monseigneur, that is admirable! All this is impossible, absolutely impossible. I say again, I admit that it is impossible!"
"Then, madame, why do you ask it?"
"Why, to obtain it, of course, monseigneur."
"What! notwithstanding all I have just said to you, you dare hope still?"
"I have that presumption, monseigneur."
"Such self-conceit—"
"Is very modest because I am not counting on my presence."
"On what, then, madame, do you rely?"
"On my absence, monseigneur," said Madeleine, rising.
"On your absence?"