"Why, you are a fool."
"Monseigneur!"
"You marry, and hardly twenty years old! You marry! When I was planning for you to—"
Then the prince, regaining his self-possession, said, calmly and coldly:
"And whom do you wish to marry, Frantz?"
"Mlle. Antonine Hubert, monseigneur."
"Who is this Mlle. Hubert? What did you say her name was?"
"Hubert, monseigneur."
"And what is Mlle. Hubert?"
"The niece of a French magistrate, monseigneur, President Hubert."