“If he had been, I should have strangled him,” said Ralph between his teeth. “I hate the gloomy dog.”
“Not so much as I do,” she said bitterly.
“But you haven’t always hated him,” said he unable to hide his jealousy.
“Lies and calumnies,” said Josephine Balsamo coldly, without raising her voice. “Beaumagnan is an impostor, an unbalanced creature, full of morbid pride; and it is because I rejected his love that he desired my death. That I said the other day; and he did not contradict me.... He could not contradict me.”
“But what joyful words!” exclaimed Ralph. “Then you never loved him? What a weight off my spirits! But, after all, the thing was impossible! Josephine Balsamo to fall in love with a Beaumagnan!”
He laughed aloud in his joy.
“But listen, I do not wish to call you that any longer,” he went on. “Josephine is not a pretty name. Let me call you Josine. May I? That’s it, I will call you Josine, as Napoleon and your mother Josephine Beauharnais called you Josine. That’s settled, isn’t it? You are Josine ... my Josine.”
“Respect first, please,” she said smiling at his childishness. “I am not your Josine.”
“Respect! But I’m overflowing with respect. What! We were shut up together.... You were entirely defenseless.... And I remained on my knees before you as before an idol. And I’m full of fear! I’m trembling! If you were to give me your hand to kiss I should not dare to do it!”