"May God reward your Highness!" she stammered.

In her confusion the blood rushed to her face, which was perfect in feature and expression.

With her sweet delicate contour, her large gray eyes, and the sweep of the lustrous hair, setting off with its rich tint the little shell-like ears and the alabaster whiteness of the neck and throat, even Conde, who had seen all the beauties of three courts and of sixty years defile before him, stood staring in admiration at the Huguenot maiden.
"Heh! On my word, mademoiselle, you make me wish that I could wipe forty years from my account." He bowed, and sighed in the fashion that was in vogue when Buckingham came to the wooing of Anne of Austria, and the dynasty of cardinals was at its height.
"France could ill spare those forty years, your Highness." "Heh, heh! So quick of tongue too?
Your daughter has a courtly wit, monsieur." "God forbid, your Highness! She is as pure and good--" "Nay, that is but a sorry compliment to the court.

Surely, mademoiselle, you would love to go out into the great world, to hear sweet music, see all that is lovely, and wear all that is costly, rather than look out ever upon the Rue St.Martin, and bide in this great dark house until the roses wither upon your cheeks." "Where my father is, I am happy at his side," said she, putting her two hands upon his sleeve.

"I ask nothing more than I have got." "And I think it best that you go up to your room again," said the old merchant shortly, for the prince, in spite of his age, bore an evil name among women.