The prince, almost crazed by the amazement and anger produced by these audacious words, remained silent. The marquise continued, smiling: "Nothing? Not a word? Come, monseigneur, what is the real significance of the continued speechlessness of your Highness? Again I ask, is it reflection? Then reflect. Is it timidity? Then overcome it. Is it impoliteness? Remember that we are in France, and that I am a woman. But can I, on the contrary, regard your silence as a blind consent to what I am going to ask of you? Then say so at once, that I may at least inform you what are the favours that you grant me so graciously beforehand, and for which I desire to thank you cordially." Then Madeleine, taking off her gloves, extended her hand to the archduke. That perfect little hand, white, delicate, tapering, fluttering, veined with azure, whose finger-nails resembled rose-coloured shells, attracted the attention of the prince; in all his life he had never seen such a hand. But soon, ashamed, revolting at the thought of yielding to such a triviality at such an important moment, the blush of indignation mounted to his brow, and he sought some word superlatively scornful and wounding, that he might crush, with a single club-like blow, this presumptuous woman, whose insolence had already lasted too long for the dignity of an archduke. Unfortunately, the prince was more accustomed to command his troops, or to receive the homage of courtiers, than to find crushing words on the spur of the moment, especially when they were wanted to crush a young and pretty woman; nevertheless, he persisted in seeking. This serene cogitation gave Madeleine the time to hide her hand under her large sleeves, and to say to the prince, with a mischievous smile: "There is no longer room for doubt, monseigneur, that the silence of your Highness is due to timidity, and, too, to German timidity. I am acquainted with that. After the timidity of the scholar, there is none more unconquerable, and, therefore, more venerable, but there are limitations to everything. So, I beg you, monseigneur, recover yourself. I do not think there is anything in me calculated to awe your Highness," added the marquise, without lifting the veil which concealed her features. The archduke was unfortunate; in spite of his desire, he could not find the crushing word, but, feeling how ridiculous his position was becoming, he said; "I do not know, madame, how you dared to present yourself here." "But I present myself here in accordance with your consent, monseigneur." "When you requested an audience yesterday, I did not know your name, madame." "And what has my name done to you, monseigneur?" "Your name, madame? Your name?" "Yes, monseigneur." "Your name has been the scandal of Germany; you have made the most spiritual of our poets a pagan, an idolater, a materialist." "Indeed, monseigneur," replied Madeleine, with an accent of simplicity quite provincial, "that was not my fault."