PAUL.
And does your daughter go with you?
DUKE.
Could you think that I would leave her here?
PAUL.
Certainly, Monsieur. If to stay seemed less perilous than to go. Why
not let me replace you for awhile?
DUKE.
You guard my daughter here alone?
PAUL.
In my character of cousin to Diane Leblanc, gossip has already united
us by even a closer tie.
DUKE.
To my infinite annoyance, sir.
PAUL.
Monsieur le Duc, in times like these, Madame Kauvar would be far safer
than Mademoiselle de Beaumont.
DUKE.
[_With quiet hauteur_.]
There are some means of safety forbidden to my rank, sir.--Pardon me
if I must say that what you suggest is one of them.
PAUL.
What if I dared to love your daughter, to hope that you would grant me
the right to guard her as my wife?
DUKE.
Seriously?
PAUL.
Seriously!
DUKE.
[_Shrugging his shoulders_.]
This is another of the many insanities of the times.
PAUL.
[_Haughtily_.]
Suppose I had reason to believe that your daughter would consent?
DUKE.
[_Sternly_.]
One moment, Monsieur! Your first proposition involves but
madness,--your last implies dishonour.
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