"Suppose you had met me the way people usually meet--and you some time had allowed me to come and address you--could you have done that, do you reckon ?" He turned to her, an intent frown on his face, unsmiling.
"That's a question which here at least is absurd," she replied.
"You spoke once of that other country, abroad,--" he broke off, shaking his head.

"Who are you?
I don't feel sure that I even know your name as yet." "I am, as you have been told, Josephine, Countess St.Auban.

I am French, Hungarian, American, what you like, but nothing to you.

I came to this country in the interest of Louis Kossuth.

For that reason I have been misunderstood.