He shook himself.  "I am dreaming, of course, or else I am mad,"
he said. 

"Blind, Andre; just blind," she assured him. 

"Blind only where it would have been presumption to have seen." 

"And yet," she answered him with a flash of the Aline he had known
of old, "I have never found you lack presumption." 

M.  de Kercadiou, emerging a moment later from the library window,
beheld them holding hands and staring each at the other,
beatifically, as if each saw Paradise in the other's face. 

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Scaramouche, by Rafael Sabatini