Besides, my passion is well known.

I love Modeste; she is my pupil, and she must make a good marriage.

I'll fool the duke, if need be; and you shall marry--" "Germain, coffee and liqueurs," said Canalis.
"Liqueurs!" repeated Butscha with a wave of his hand, and the air of a sham virgin repelling seduction; "Ah, those poor deeds! one of 'em was a marriage contract; and that second clerk of mine is as stupid as--as--an epithalamium, and he's capable of digging his penknife right through the bride's paraphernalia; he thinks he's a handsome man because he's five feet six,--idiot!" "Here is some creme de the, a liqueur of the West Indies," said Canalis.
"You, whom Mademoiselle Modeste consults--" "Yes, she consults me." "Well, do you think she loves me ?" asked the poet.
"Loves you?
yes, more than she loves the duke," answered the dwarf, rousing himself from a stupor which was admirably played.

"She loves you for your disinterestedness.

She told me she was ready to make the greatest sacrifices for your sake; to give up dress and spend as little as possible on herself, and devote her life to showing you that in marrying her you hadn't done so" (hiccough) "bad a thing for yourself.
She's as right as a trivet,--yes, and well informed.