"
"What a very strange woman you are!" said Fontenelle, with a certain
languid admiration beginning to glimmer in his eyes, "You always do
things that nobody else would dare do--and yet . . . no lovers!"
She turned herself swiftly round and surveyed him with a bright
scorn that swept him as with a lightning flash from head to heel.
"Lovers! Who would be bored by them! Such delightful company! So
unselfish in their demands--so tender and careful of a woman's
feelings! Pouf! Cher ami!--you forget! I was the wife of the late
Prince D'Agramont!"
"That explains a great many of your moods certainly," said the
Marquis smiling.
"Does it not? Le beau Louis!--romantic Louis!--poet Louis!--musician
Louis!--Louis, who talked pretty philosophies by the hour,--Louis
who looked so beautiful by moonlight,--who seemed fastidious and
refined to a degree that was almost ethereal!--Louis who swore, with
passion flashing in his eyes, that I was the centre of the universe
to him, and that no other woman had ever occupied, would ever
occupy, or SHOULD ever occupy his thoughts!--yes, he was an ideal
lover and husband indeed!" said the Princesse smiling coldly, "I
gave him all my life and love, till one day, when I found I was
sharing his caresses with my plumpest dairymaid, who called him "HER
Louis"! Then I thought it was time to put an end to romance.
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