“Ah, then, you do not love me? Devotion is but a virtue, love is a passion.”

“Listen to me, I implore you: I should not have come hither without a serious motive: you are well assured of that, are you not?”

“The motive is of very little consequence, so that you are but here — so that I see you — so that I speak to you!”

“You are right; the principal thing is that I am here without any one having seen me, and that I can speak to you.” — Fouquet sank on his knees before her. “Speak! speak, madame!” said he, “I listen to you.”

The marquise looked at Fouquet, on his knees at her feet, and there was in the looks of the woman a strange mixture of love and melancholy.