Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 242: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

226 A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE, natural things in the world,’’ replied the count, with an unalterable sang-froid. ‘‘Monsieur,’’ said Madame d’Albergotti, sitting down again, ‘‘we must come to an understanding. I have told recs ‘‘Do not trouble yourself to begin again; I am going to repeat to you what you have told me. You have a fiance; this fiance, who is the fugitive pursued by Monsieur de Louvois’ men, loves you, which is quite simple, and you love him. You are going to swear to me that you are dec- termined to love him always, and that on his part he will take care never to forget you. Is that it?’’ ‘*Perfectly.”’ ‘“You see, then, that I have heard everything.”’ ‘‘And notwithstanding these avowals, you still persist in wishing me for your wife.’’ ‘‘Upon my word, madame, it is my chief desire. ”’ A bitter smile passed over the lips of Suzanne, who drew back her seat and gathered her dress around her with a gesture of crushing scorn. ‘Is it possible, madame, that you have seen so little of the world that my proposition astonishes you?’’ continued Monsieur de Pomereux. ‘*T¢ does more than astonish me, monsieur; it afflicts me. ’’ ‘Eh! my God! madame,’’ exclaimed the count, with a surprised air, ‘‘what is there, then, so afflicting in the desire which I have to marry you? You are such that half the ladies of the court are jealous of you; I am a gentle- man, we are both young. What is there more simple?”’ ‘‘Since all this is more serious than I thought at first, I will answer you seriously, monsieur. When my father served as guide to my youth, I made the sacrifice of my hand, but to-day that lam free, the hand will not give itself without the heart. Now the heart is already given, monsieur. I have nothing more to say in answer to the proposition which you have transmitted to me in the name of Monsieur de Louvois. My life and liberty are his; my love is my own.’’ From Madame d’Albergotti’s air, Monsieur de Pomereux understood that he no longer had anything to hope for; but he drew from this certainty the desire of triumphing over a resistance which, to tell the truth, he had not ex- pected. ‘‘In faith, madame,’’ said he, with a smile, ‘‘perhaps (€(0) micboo S (E(o)