"Is it to talk of such pleasant trifles that you have gained access to my box?"
"No, it is to ask you for some special information."
"What?"
"Is it true, is it really true that you are about to wed Rosas?" he asked in an almost cordial tone.
"Why not?" she replied, as she raised her head.
"Because—I am going to be frank—I have always regarded you as an absolutely straightforward woman, a woman of honor—You once claimed so to be. Mad, fantastic, you often are; charming, always; but dishonest, never. To take Rosas's love, even his fortune, would be natural enough, but to take his name would be a very questionable act and a skilful one, but lacking in frankness."
"That is to say that I may devour him like a courtesan, but not marry him as a—"
"As a young girl, no, you cannot do that. And you put me—I am bound to tell you so and I take advantage of the intermission to do so—in a delicate position. If I declared the truth to Rosas, I act toward you as a rascal. If I keep silent to my friend, my true friend, I act almost like a knave."
"Did Rosas ask you to speak to me?"
"No, but there is a voice within me that pricks me to speech and tells me that if I allow you to marry the duke, I am committing myself to a questionable affair—Do you know what he asked me?—To be his witness."