"Yes, you do. That great fop, the Marquis de Cazolles."
"He is not a fop, in the first place."
"It may be so, but he is stupid, ruined by play, and worn out by dissipation. It is really a nice match for you, so pretty, so fresh, and so intelligent."
She inquired, smiling: "What have you against him?"
"I, nothing."
"Yes, you have. He is not all that you say."
"Nonsense. He is a fool and an intriguer."
She turned round somewhat, leaving off looking into the water, and said: "Come, what is the matter with you?"
He said, as though a secret was being wrenched from the bottom of his heart: "I—I—am jealous of him."
She was slightly astonished, saying: "You?"