"Which means—?"
"I have never heard of this being done to any other woman. Accordingly I deduce that in all other women must remain—"
"Beware, your Highness, of the crudeness of cynicism!"
"I age," complained the Grand Duke, "and one reaches years of indiscretion so early in the forties."
"You admit, then, discretion is desirable?"
"I admit that," his Highness said, with firmness, "of you alone."
"Am I, in truth," queried the Baroness, "desirable?" And in this patch of moonlight she looked incredibly so.
"More than that," said the Grand Duke—"you are dangerous. You are a menace to the peace of my Court. The young men make sonnets to your eyes, and the ladies are ready to tear them out. You corrupt us, one and all. There is de Châteauroux now—"
"I assure you," protested the Baroness, "Monsieur de Châteauroux is not the sort of person—"
"But at twenty-five," the Grand Duke interrupted, "one is invariably that sort of person."