"
"Voted! Why, Henri, what a child you are! Do you call that voting when
all was arranged beforehand? You are blind, I tell you. You will vote
next, I suppose, that your great General's valour shall de rewarded with
your sister's hand!"
"My sister's hand! what is it you are speaking of?"
"Yes, Agatha's hand! think you that when you make a General of such as
him, that his ambition will rest there? if you are content to be
lieutenant to a postillion, I presume you will feel yourself honoured
by a nearer connexion with him."
"Denot, you are raving mad! Cathelineau looking for my sister's hand?"
"Yes, Agatha's hand, the postillion looking for your sister's hand; and,
Sir, you will find that I am not mad. Before long, Cathelineau will look
for Agatha's hand: her heart he has already," and without waiting for
any further answer, he hurried away.
"He must be raving mad," said Henri, "unlucky in love, and thwarted in
ambition, he is unable to bear his griefs like a man. What a phantasy
has jealousy created in his brain But Agatha was right; a man who could
speak of her, even in his madness, as he has now spoken, was not worthy
of her.
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