It is in all the copybooks that one should die to please his lady-love; and shall a man not go to prison ?' 'Love?
And what has love to do with being sent to gaol ?' exclaimed the Countess, appealing to the walls and roof.

'Heaven knows I think as much of love as any one; my life would prove it; but I admit no love, at least for a man, that is not equally returned.

The rest is moonshine.' 'I think of love more absolutely, madam, though I am certain no more tenderly, than a lady to whom I am indebted for such kindnesses,' returned the Prince.

'But this is unavailing.

We are not here to hold a court of troubadours.' 'Still,' she replied, 'there is one thing you forget.