The marquis came to see his young captive, and perceived that she had not touched his presents.
"Do you disdain that which I am so happy to offer you?" said he to Blanche.
"I don't wish for any of those things," answered she, sighing. "I do not need all of these ornaments in order to please Urbain. What would he say if he saw me in them?"
"Still thinking of Urbain? Have I not told you, mademoiselle, that you will not see him again?"
"Yes, but I don't think you're so wicked as you wish to appear. How would it help you always to vex me so?"
"Blanche, have you not confessed that you were not far from loving me?"
"Yes, and I still feel the same. With Urbain and you I should be very happy."
"May I not hope by the ardor of my attentions, my love, that I may cause you to forget a first fancy, and that I alone shall occupy your heart?"
"You don't understand me, monsieur. I love Urbain as my lover, my husband; and you—I should like—I don't know, it seems to me that I could with pleasure call you my brother—or my father."
This confession did not entirely satisfy Villebelle, but he hoped everything from time and the constancy of his attentions.