"Listen to
me, mademoiselle. You know that he who speaks to you is ready to give
not only his life but his honor for you, at any moment, and at all
times. Therefore you may believe in him; you can confide to him that
which you may not, perhaps, be willing to say to your father. Tell me,
has that sublime Canalis been making you the disinterested offer that
you now fling as a reproach at poor Ernest?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe it?"
"That question, my manikin," she replied, giving him one of the ten or
a dozen nicknames she had invented for him, "strikes me as
undervaluing the strength of my self-love."
"Ah, you are laughing, my dear Mademoiselle Modeste; then there's no
danger: I hope you are only making a fool of him."
"Pray what would you think of me, Monsieur Butscha, if I allowed
myself to make fun of those who do me the honor to wish to marry me?
You ought to know, master Jean, that even if a girl affects to despise
the most despicable attentions, she is flattered by them."
"Then I flatter you?" said the young man, looking up at her with a
face that was illuminated like a city for a festival.
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