"Love you!"

"Yes, do you love me? You were to give me an answer here, in
Seville, and now I ask for it. I have almost taught myself to think
that it is needless to ask; and now this horrid mischance--"

"What do you mean?" said she, speaking very quickly.

"Why this miserable blunder about the marquis's button! After that I
suppose--"

"The marquis! Oh, John, is that to make a difference between you and
me?--a little joke like that?"

"But does it not?"

"Make a change between us!--such a thing as that! Oh, John!"

"But tell me, Maria, what am I to hope? If you will say that you can
love me, I shall care nothing for the marquis. In that case I can
bear to be laughed at."

"Who will dare to laugh at you? Not the marquis, whom I am sure you
will like."

"Your friend in this plaza, who told you of all this."

"What, poor Tomas!"

"I do not know about his being poor. I mean the gentleman who was