Her face softened somewhat, and she looked amused. "You seem quite able to present yourself," she said.
I was immensely relieved at this melting of the ice, just when I was beginning to feel that I was becoming a spectacle.
"I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire," I said, and to fill up the embarrassing pause that followed, I added, "and, being a Huguenot, I am a nobody in Paris,—in fact, a mere volunteer in the French Guards."
"Well, Monsieur Guardsman, what do you wish to say to me?"
She was now in quite a pleasant, quizzical mood.
"I trust you do not expect me to say it in one word," I answered; and then I lowered my voice, "or in a single interview."
"It does not matter how many interviews it requires, if it is interesting," she answered nonchalantly.
"Alas!" I said. "I fear it is a story which many others have told you."
"An old story may seem new, when it comes from new lips."
"And when it is new to the lips that tell it, as mine is. Actually, I have never before made a confession of love."