"That would be merely my duty; do please let us talk about my happiness. Have you really been thinking about me? Is it possible you were sufficiently interested in me to hope I might be worthy your regard, and to try to find out—"
"But I had to, if I meant to carry out my plans!"
"Ah, those plans of yours! I hope I am now going to hear what they are. Kind Mask, go on; do, I beseech you, trust the fortunate mortal whose heart already beats for you alone, and who is only waiting a word from you to give himself to you forever."
"I should be very sorry!" she exclaimed hastily.
For a few moments Léon was silenced.
"Oh," he said at last, "do not play this cruel game with me any longer. Why tease me with alternate kindness and coldness? This is the last of these balls, but do not think to escape me again. I shall dog your footsteps and follow you until you promise to meet me again, and give me an opportunity to lay my heart and my hopes at your feet, and hear from you what these plans can be."
"Oh, no, no; I must first be quite sure of your reasonableness and prudence. There are certain conditions I shall have to impose, and your word of honor duly signed and sealed, must be my guarantee of their fulfilment."
"My word of honor! My signature!" said Léon, considerably astonished at her cold-blooded precautions and also at the solemnity she seemed to attach to a treaty made at the Opera Ball.
He looked down at his companion. She was clearly embarrassed and meditative; her bosom heaved with obvious agitation; and he almost fancied he could detect a blush beneath her mask. She on her side was abstractedly watching him, and seemed perplexed and doubtful.
Convinced that the moment had come when with a little pressure she would give way, Léon went on eagerly: