Is it impossible?"
As she looked into Calvert's serious eyes, lighted with a glow she had
never seen in them, there swept over her that admiration for him which
she had felt before. But she conquered it before it could conquer her.
"Impossible. Ah, you Americans want everything. You have triumphed over
the English; do you wish to conquer France, too? I am not worth being
taken prisoner, Monsieur," she says, suddenly. "I am capricious and cold
and ambitious. I have never been taught to value love above position.
How can I change now? How could I leave this France, and its court and
pleasures, for the wilds of a new country? No, no, Monsieur; I haven't
any of the heroine in me."
"'Tis not exactly to the wilds of a new country that I would take you,
Madame," and Calvert smiled palely, in spite of himself, "but to a very
fertile and beautiful land, where some of the kindest people in the
world live. But I do not deny that our life and pleasures are of the
simplest--'twould, in truth, be a poor exchange for the Marquise de St.
Andre."
"It might be a happy enough lot for some woman; for me, I own it would
be a sacrifice," said Adrienne, imperiously.
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