Whoever may love me, noble though she be, will not degrade herself.

But I have already said too much--my lips are sealed.

I shall never be other than the humblest, most devoted of your slaves; even though, by one of those strange coincidences that happen sometimes in real life, I should come to be recognised by all the world as a king's son.

If in your great goodness you will condescend to show me, fair goddess of beauty, by the slightest sign, that my boldness has not angered you, I shall die happy, consumed by the burning brightness of your eyes upon the funeral pyre of my love." How would Mme.

la Marquise have received this ardent epistle?
which had perhaps done him good service already more than once.