"Very easy mistake," Jacques protested weakly. Oh dear. None of the women at the Jacobin Club ever cried, except to weep in joy at the vast strides made in the name of liberty. "I, euh... here."
He plunged a hand into his waistcoat pocket and, feeling horrifically awkward, dabbed at Joséphine's cheeks. He had seen that bit of staging in a tragedy of Racine's last week at the Comedie-Francaise. Jacques had to admit that it looked significantly less awkward on stage then it felt to do. "I am not offended in the slightest."