I suppose poor Adolphe Denot is the man you cannot love?
Poor Adolphe! he must be told so, that is all." "But how shall I tell him, Marie?
He is so unlike other men.

Henri is his friend, and yet he has never spoken to him about me, nor to my father.

If he would ask my hand from Henri, as another would, Henri would talk to him, and explain to him that it could not be-that my heart is too much occupied with other cares, to care for loving or being loved." "That means, Agatha, till the right lover comes." "No, Marie; but till these wars are over.

Not that I could ever love Adolphe Denot; but now, at present, methinks love should be banished from the country, and not allowed to return till the King is on his throne again." "Well, Agatha, I don't know.

That would be somewhat hard upon us poor girls, whose lovers are more to our taste, than M.Denot is to yours.
I know not that our knights will fight the worse for a few stray smiles, though the times be so frightful." "Do you smile on yours then, Marie; and I will smile to see you happy.
But tell me, dearest, what shall I say to Adolphe?
You would not have me give him hope, when I feel I can never love him ?" "God forbid!--why should you?
But has he never spoken to Henri on the subject, or to the Marquis ?" "Never a word.