"
As these entrancing words fell upon his ear, de Sigognac impulsively
tried to kiss the sweet lips so temptingly near his own, but Isabelle
withdrew herself gently from his embrace; not with any show of excessive
prudery, but with a modest timidity that no really gallant lover would
endeavour to overcome by force.
"Yes, I love you, de Sigognac," she continued, in a voice that was
heavenly sweet, "and with all my heart, but not as other women love;
your glory is my aim, not my own pleasure. I am perfectly willing to be
looked upon as your mistress; it is the only thing that would account
satisfactorily to the world at large for your presence in this troupe of
strolling players. And why should I care for slanderous reports, so long
as I keep my own self-esteem, and know myself to be virtuous and true?
If there were really a stain upon my purity it would kill me; I could
not survive it. It is the princely blood in my veins doubtless that
gives rise to such pride in me; very ridiculous, perhaps, in an actress,
but such is my nature."
This enchanting avowal, which would not have taught anything new to a
more conceited or bolder suitor, but was a wonderful revelation to de
Sigognac, who had scarcely dared to hope that his passionate, devoted
love might some day be returned, filled him with such rapturous,
overwhelming delight, that he was almost beside himself.
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