"Do you imagine, madame, that I am not profoundly conscious of its value; do you already repent of having afforded me so very great a pleasure?"
"I never repent of what I have done, for I always reflect before acting; and I realize all the consequences of what I accord, of what I promise."
"Then you give me leave to love you and to tell you so, to hope that you will share my sentiments? for all that is the natural consequence of this priceless interview which you have deigned to grant me."
"Oh! gently, gently, Monsieur Albert; you go too fast. Love me, if you will; I do not forbid you—far from it; but I must be absolutely certain of your love, I must be convinced that it is too great to recoil before any obstacle—any sacrifice—before I make up my mind to yield to it."
"Oh! madame, are you not certain of the power of your charms, of the boundless influence you exert over me? What proof must you have, in order to believe in my love? Speak, command!—I am prepared to obey."
Madame Baldimer gazed earnestly at Albert, but in that searching gaze there was no trace of tenderness, nothing to indicate that it came from the heart. The young man was almost frightened by the persistent stare of those two great black eyes; he would have preferred a little confusion and embarrassment, some slight emotion, a sigh—in a word, some one of those things which indicate that the moment of avowal, of surrender, is at hand; and Madame Baldimer's expression conveyed no such indication.
"You have loved very often, have you not?" murmured the lovely widow at last.
"So I thought until I knew you, but I feel now that I never really loved before I saw you."
"Oh, yes! a man always says that to the last woman to whom he pays court. But I have been told that you have been guilty of a great many follies for your mistresses."
"Follies do not necessarily denote love."