You made it
once, though you are not willing to repeat it. But I have your
word, Sylvia; I am content. Not all the world could make me
believe that you would willingly retract that word."
Her name, for the first time coming from his lips, caused her to
start. She sent him a penetrating glance, but it broke on a face
immobile as marble.
"I do not recollect granting you permission to use my given name,"
she said.
"O, that was before the world. But alone, alone as we are, you
and I, it is different." The smile which accompanied these words
was frankness itself, but it did not deceive Madame, who read
his eyes too well. "Ali, but the crumbs you give this love of
mine are so few!" "You are the only man in the world permitted
to avow love to me. You have kissed my hand."
"A privilege which seems extended to all."
Madame colored, but there was not light enough for him to
perceive it.
"The , hand you kissed is the hand of the woman; others kiss it
to pay homage. Monsieur, 'forgive me for having deceived you,
you were so easy to deceive." His eyes met hers steadily.
"I am not Madame simply. I am Stephonia Sylvia Auersperg; the name
I assumed was my mother's.
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