"Hope all at your ease, monseigneur, but, I tell you plainly, I bind myself to nothing. My faith! fan your flame, make it burn, let it melt my snow."
"But, in a word, suppose that I grant all that you ask, what would you feel for me?"
"Perhaps this first proof of devotion to my wishes would make a deep impression upon me, but I cannot assert it, my power of divination does not extend so far as that, monseigneur."
"Ah, you are pitiless!" cried the archduke, with a vexation that had a touch of sorrow in it, "you only know how to exact."
"Would it be better to make false promises, monseigneur? That would be worthy neither of you nor of me, and then, in a word, let us speak as people who have hearts. Once more, what is it I ask of you? to show justice and mercy to the most honourable of men, and paternal affection for the orphan you have reared! If you only knew how these poor orphans love each other! What innocence! what tenderness! what despair! This morning, as she told me of the ruin of her hopes, Antonine was moved to tears."
"Frantz is of illustrious birth. I have other plans and other views for him," replied the prince, impatiently. "He ought not to make a misalliance."
"The word is a pretty one. And then who am I, monseigneur? Magdalena Pérès, daughter of an honest Mexican merchant, ruined by failures in business, and a marquise by chance. You love me, nevertheless, without fear of misalliance."
"Ah, madame! I! I!"
"You, you, it is another thing, is it not? as the comedy says."
"At least, I am free in my actions."