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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 175/292
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"
As
you
believe
in
your
own
existence
.
"
"
Well
,
then
,
be
it
so
;
but
loving
me
does
not
bind
you
too
much
.
"
"
Unfortunately
,
it
does
not
bind
me
more
than
I
am
bound
;
but
it
binds
you
,
Rosa
,
you
.
"
"
To
what
?
"
"
First
of
all
,
not
to
marry
.
"
She
smiled
.
"
That
's
your
way
,
"
she
said
;
"
you
are
tyrants
all
of
you
.
You
worship
a
certain
beauty
,
you
think
of
nothing
but
her
.
Then
you
are
condemned
to
death
,
and
whilst
walking
to
the
scaffold
,
you
devote
to
her
your
last
sigh
;
and
now
you
expect
poor
me
to
sacrifice
to
you
all
my
dreams
and
my
happiness
.
"
"
But
who
is
the
beauty
you
are
talking
of
,
Rosa
?
"
said
Cornelius
,
trying
in
vain
to
remember
a
woman
to
whom
Rosa
might
possibly
be
alluding
.
"
The
dark
beauty
with
a
slender
waist
,
small
feet
,
and
a
noble
head
;
in
short
,
I
am
speaking
of
your
flower
.
"
