Oh, wait, and hear me out.

I have more than once been upon the point of doing so--the last time was that night on the balcony at Count Redondo's.

I would have spoken then; I would have taken my courage in my hands, confessed my unworthiness and my love.

But I was restrained because, although I might confess, there was nothing I could ask.

I am a poor man, Sylvia, you are the daughter of a wealthy one; men speak of you as an heiress.