"On your remembrance, if you prefer it."
"You are going," said the prince, unable to conceal his regret and vexation, "you are going so soon?"
"It is my last and only means of bringing you to an agreement."
"But really, madame——"
"Wait, monseigneur, do you wish me to tell you what is going to happen?"
"Let us hear, madame."
"I am going to leave you. At first you will be relieved of a great burden; my presence will no longer beset you with all sorts of temptations, which have their agony as well as their charm; you will banish me entirely from your thoughts. Unfortunately, by degrees, and in spite of yourself, I will return to occupy your thoughts; my mysterious, veiled figure will follow you everywhere; you will feel still more how little there is of the platonic in your inclination toward me, and these sentiments will become only more irritating and more obstinate. To-morrow, the next day, perhaps, reflecting that, after all, I asked noble and generous actions only of you, you will bitterly regret my departure, but it will be too late, monseigneur."
"Too late?"
"Too late for you; not for me. I have taken it into my head that Colonel Pernetti will have his pardon, and that Count Frantz will marry Antonine. You understand, monseigneur, that it must be."
"In spite of me?"