"I am not belle Dorothée in your eyes," sobbed she. "You never loved me; I see it plainly, now's that it's too late."
"Valame Dios! but I did, and do," said Querubin, quite overcome.
"Then you won't marry her?" said Dorothée.
"But if she come to me all the way from England on purpose ?" said the Marquis. "What can I do, as a man of honour, but marry her?"
"Fort bien," said Dorothée. "Let her come; that's all. Je ne demande pas mieux. But mark me, for what I say I'll do. If she comes here, I tell you again, I'll poison her!" and so saying she quitted the room.
"Gran Dios!" exclaimed Don Querubin, throwing himself back in his chair, and dropping his arms—"la pauvre enfant! Elle m'aime épendument! She loves me to distraction!"
"It's to be regretted she never mentioned it before," said Criquet.
