"How theatrical you look! You are alarmingly like Miraudin;—and one
MUST draw the line at Miraudin! This is a day of truth according to the
Abbe Vergniaud; how dare you say you are at my service when you do not
mean it?"
"Princesse, I protest . . ."
"Oh, protest as much as you like,—on the way to Rome!"
The Marquis started.
"To Rome?"
"Yes, to Rome. I am going, and I want someone to look after me. Will you come? All Paris will say we have eloped together." She laughed merrily.
The Marquis stood perplexed and silent.
"Well, what is it?" went on the Princesse gaily, "Is there some faint sense of impropriety stealing over you? Not possible! Dear me, your very muscles are growing rigid! You will not go?"
"Madame, if you will permit me to be frank with you,—I would rather not!"
"A la bonheur!—then I have you!" And the Princesse rose, a dazzling smile irradiating her features, "You have thrown open your heart! You have begun to reform! You love Sylvie Hermenstein—yes!—you positively LOVE her!"