"You can?"
"Yes, I can."
"Oh! you are mad! She has left Paris, and no one knows into what region of America she has retreated."
"Of what consequence is that?"
"And then, besides, I am ruined!"
"So much the better."
"Valentine, be careful of what you say," the young man remarked with a sigh; "in spite of my reason, I allow myself to believe you."
"Hope, man! hope, I tell you."
"Oh, no; no, that is impossible!"
"Nothing is impossible; that is a word invented by the impotent and the cowardly. I repeat that I not only will find this woman for you again, but that she—she herself, mind—shall be afraid lest you should despise her love."