“Are we quite alone, monsieur?” asked the marquise, looking round the room.
“Oh, yes, madame, I can assure you of that.”
“Really?” said the marquise, in a melancholy tone.
“You sigh!” said Fouquet.
“What mysteries! what precautions!” said the marquise, with a slight bitterness of expression; “and how evident it is that you fear the least suspicion of your amours to escape.”
“Would you prefer their being made public?”
“Oh, no; you act like a delicate man,” said the marquise, smiling.
“Come, dear marquise, punish me not with reproaches, I implore you.”