"I, monseigneur?"
"You, because, if you continue to fill me with satisfaction, you cannot foresee the future which my loving ambition prepares for you,—the unhoped-for position which perhaps awaits you."
"You know, monseigneur, the simplicity of my tastes, and—"
"My dear Frantz," interrupted the prince, "this simplicity, this modesty, are virtues under certain conditions, while under other circumstances these virtues become weakness and indolence. But we are getting far away from the confidence. Come, what is it you have to tell me?"
"Monseigneur—"
"Well, speak; are you afraid of me? Is there a single thought in your heart which you cannot confess with a bold face and steady eye?"
"No, monseigneur; so, without any evasion, I will tell your Highness that I wish to get married."
If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of the prince he could not have been more astounded than he was at the words of Frantz; he rudely withdrew his arm from that of the young man, stepped back, and exclaimed:
"You marry, Frantz?"
"Yes, monseigneur."