"Dear heart, are you not hiding something from me?
Your tone is so mournful.

Can it be ?" as if suddenly illumined within.
"Can what be ?" asked Anne, nervously.
"That you have left your heart in France." "Oh, I have not left my heart in France, Gabrielle.

Do you not feel it beating against your own ?" "Who can he be ?" musingly.
"Gabrielle, Gabrielle!" reproachfully.
"Very well, dear.

If you have a secret I should be the last to force it from you." "See!" cried Anne, suddenly and eagerly; "there is Monsieur du Cevennes and his friend coming up the path.

Do you not think that there is something manly about the Chevalier's head ?" "I will study it some day; that is, if I feel the desire." "Do you really hate him ?" "Hate him?
Faith, no; that would be admitting that he interested me." The Chevalier and the poet carried axes.