With his unengaged hand he caught up the ashes and let them flutter back to the table.
"A lie, a woman's lie! Is that why the ash is black?
Have I wronged you in any way?
Has my love been else than honest?
Who are you ?" vehemently.
"I am play, Monsieur; pastime, frolic," insolently.

"Was not that what you named me in the single hours ?" "Are you some prince's light-o'-love ?" roughly.
The blood of wrath spread over her cheeks.
"Your name ?" "I am not afraid of you, Monsieur; but you are twisting my arm cruelly.
Will you not let go?
Thank you!" "You will not tell me who you are ?" "No." "Nor what your object was in playing with my heart ?" "Perhaps I had best tell you the truth.

Monsieur, it was a trap I set for you that night in Paris, when I came dressed as a musketeer.

My love of mischief was piqued.

I had heard so much about the fascinating Chevalier du Cevennes and his conquests.