"I wonder," said he, dropping out his words one by one, "whether any one will ever love me well enough to give a drop of their blood for me." "If you were in sickness and sorrow, who knows ?" said Rose, coloring up.
"I would soon be in sickness and sorrow if I thought that." "Don't jest with such matters, monsieur." "I am serious.

I wish I was as ill as Madame Raynal is, to be loved as she is." "You must resemble her in some other things to be loved as she is.
"You have often made me feel that of late, dear Rose." This touched her.

But she fought down the kindly feeling.

"I am glad of it," said she, out of perverseness.

She added after a while, "Edouard, you are naturally jealous." "Not the least in the world, Rose, I assure you.