"Pray, Count, let us resume our discussion of your own opinion on the matter in question. Do you advise me to marry?"
"Your merit, madame, is so great, I know no one worthy of you." He speaks with the utmost indifference. "Why resign your present brilliant position?" he adds.
"Is he mocking me?" she thinks, "or is he bashful?" As this doubt presents itself, Mademoiselle's heart sinks within her. "What can I say to make him understand me?" she murmurs. When she next speaks a slight asperity is apparent in her tone. She is not used to be trifled with; she cannot brook it even from Lauzun. She rises impatiently.
"I beg you will remember, Monsieur de Lauzun, that I consider no sacrifice too great to ensure me the husband I have described to you."
Lauzun feels that he may go too far; he instantly assumes a look of intense humility.
"Such a man as you describe, madame, ought to esteem himself supremely blest. He should love you more than life!" He speaks with enthusiasm. Mademoiselle thrills with rapture; her cheeks mantle with blushes. "At last the moment is come," she thinks. She reseats herself and turns, with breathless impatience, towards Lauzun, who meets her ardent gaze. Lauzun instantly checks himself; the cold look is again on his face.
"Where will you find such a man?" he says. "Will your highness permit me to search for one?"
"Monsieur de Lauzun, if you are in earnest you need not search long," she replies significantly. Could she then have caught his eye, all would have been told.
"Pray inform me on whom your choice has fallen, madame? We may both have fixed on the same person."
Had she dared she would have openly named himself, but he is suddenly grown so cold and distant, she is utterly discomfited. Lauzun crosses his arms on his breast and falls into a muse.