And I knew, or thought I knew, her thoughts.
"My father tells me that you are going to leave us," she said in her impetuous way.
"Yes, Mademoiselle." "I have come to ask you not to do so.

You may--think what you like." I did not look at her, but guessed the expression of her determined lips.
"And you are too proud," I said, "to explain.

You think that I, like a schoolboy, am going off in a fit of wounded vanity--pleased to cause a little inconvenience, and thus prove my own importance.

You think that it is yourself who sends me away, and your father cannot afford to lose my services at this time.

You consider it your duty to suppress your own feelings, and tread under foot your own pride--to serve the Vicomte.