—Oh, Monsieur le Curé, Veronica is not capable of that.
—Therefore, since you have discovered … discovered a secret which would ruin me, what do you calculate on making from this secret, and what do you demand?
—I, Monsieur le Curé, cried the servant, I demand nothing … oh! nothing.
—You are hesitating. Yes, you want something. Come, it is you now who hang your head and blush, while it is I who am the culprit…. Come, place yourself there, close to me.
—Oh! Monsieur le Curé, I shall never presume.
—Presume then to-day. Have you not told me that you were my friend?…
Yes. Well then, place yourself there. Tell me, Veronica, what is your age?
—Mine, Monsieur le Curé. What a question! I am not too old; come, not so old as you think. I am forty.
—Forty! why you are still of an age to get married.
—I quite think so.
—And you have never intended to do so?